Wings of Freedom
by Lordly Derp
Summary: Valoran has fallen after a Great War which brought Swain to power. He is now the self-proclaimed Grand Marshal of Valoran. His rule spreads like a plague from Demacia to the Freljord. However, one last group of secret rebels of the former Champions shall raise against him. Now they have engaged in this deadly game of Cat and Mouse. Will they succeed or will tyranny reign forever?
1. Prologue

Wings of Freedom

**Prologue:**

LeBlanc walked slyly down the dark hall which the very walls themselves seemed to consume light and reflect only blackness. Her purple and gold embroidered cape dragged gracefully behind her, brushing against the bright red carpeting as she took her careful steps. The halls of the Noxian High Command buildings were always so grim and lifeless, as decreed by Swain who had detested the sun's light. Always so grim and dark, the Deceiver thought, perfect for a trick.

As she made several turns and descents, the hall became illuminated by this artificial eerie light with a sickening green taint. Her shadows melded with the lamps and became an amalgamation of the creeping darkness lurking down the corners and layers of the hallways. Soon, she encountered a doorway with two large wooden gates held up by a series of bolts and nails. They were slightly ajar, allowing a stream of flickering orange softly pour out onto the red flooring. Silently, she entered with a polite bow before even making any eye contact.

Within the tight chamber was a singular round table constructed of the rarest ivory and pine wood and upon it sat six figures with Leblanc herself making the seventh. A faint candle was lit in the middle, bathing the room with soft dim glow, becoming the only natural thing around these iron walls.

From left to right, the figures sat in various poses according to their liking; some stern, some laid back, some indifferent and some sinister. LeBlanc found her seat opposite of the main man at one end of the eternal circular table. His fists were held together upon a grand wooden cane and adorned a robe most luxurious of Noxian tastes and upon his left shoulder was an unnatural winged beasts whose six crimson eyes would stare into your soul.

The man began to talk, his raspy voice was slightly muffled by a wool mask, "The pride of Noxus now lay upon our hands lady and gentlemen. This is no longer the era in which we are constantly opposed, no, this is a new age. The Noxian age. We must show to the world our might, and we shall do that first by crushing the souls of those few who still stands bravely, albeit futilely and foolishly, in our path."

A seated man dressed in an extravagant red coat whose two pupil-less eyes deeply intrigued LeBlanc, cleared his throat and opened those reddened lips as though preparing for a grand feast.

"The Demacian grounds are now under our control, and Project Zealot is well underway I assure you. The endless power which we may extract from it will allow us to consume and devour our foes. There will be questions none, it shall be complete within a few month's time."

Several nods of approval came from the table.

"Then when do we get to put on a show? Come on, we've got all this damn land now, let's just round em' all up and let me give you guys the greatest, most fucking awesome show ever! The best execution is a fancy one! " a rowdy and mustached man spoke while fancily whirling about two deadly looking blades. He then took up his mug of ale and downed it within a second before releasing a belch followed by the brief stench of alcohol in the chamber.

A massive, burly man whose appearance told the story of a merciless warrior slammed his gauntlets on the table, causing even the floor to shudder.

"Marshal, when do we get to crush those rebels? I've been waiting for so long yet no orders have been given. I request you to allow me to have the honor to bring to your their heads!" he angrily roared while holding up a wicked axe which was capable of cleaning cutting a man in half.

Then, a woman whose upper body was that of a beautiful temptress and her lower that of a snake, seductively slithered to the man and began playfully teasing him, softly bring her finger down his plated chest.

"Oh, don't be such a grunt, we all need times to ease ourselves, come find me at my chambers and I will assure you a most memorable experience," her sly voice joked. The man, groaned and lightly pushed her aside before setting his axe back down.

Just as LeBlanc was about to speak, she was interrupted by a voice from the shadows. A most mysterious man, his face was concealed by the void which had consumed that particular corner of the room, leaving no light. She was not sure if a man was even there, just a shadow perhaps and no more still a lingering presence of that man chilled her skin.

"We try so hard, yet can never achieve what... what... what she achieved," the man began in a low voice, "you cannot call it jealousy, just a will to protect, is it now? Hmm..."

LeBlanc squinted her eyes to try and get a better view but suddenly the shadows from the man began spilling over the entire room. LeBlanc looked on in horror as the seated figures seemed to be unaware of it before getting devoured by the blackness, leaving nothing behind. She tried to run but found that the door had been replaced by a wall as the darkness crept ever closer towards her. With her back pressed against the wall, she tried to escape it but it was already too late. The shadows had all but consumed her feet, sending deathly chills all over her body, then it was her thighs, her body and neck and within seconds her eyes too had been devoured. She tried to scream out but no sound escaped those throats.

She screamed and her eyes opened. The darkness was gone, so was the chamber and the people. She got up from her bed and found that she was breathing heavily and her heart beating madly. She quickly glanced her weary eyes around and saw the moon's soft twilight bathing the room as a slight breeze rolled in through a window's cracks. Now, she realized the clock's slow ticking was the only sound in the deep silence of night along with her faint breathing.

_3:59, _it ticked. It has begun.

* * *

**AN: Alright everyone this is my second fanfic, I've intended to make it dark, dramatic and filled with character deaths. It will take place in a dystopic alternative Valoran. For some who are wondering, it is NOT a sequel to my first story. There may be some allusions but overall this is a fresh new one starring Katarina. So, please read and review and enjoy!**


	2. Fallen Glory

Chapter 1

The synchronized clicks of metallic marching boots against stone cobs on the streets of Demacia could be heard everywhere within the city. The ranks of Noxian troops marched sternly in neat files with the banners of Noxus wavering high in the lifeless wind. Not a single sign, symbol or flag of Demacia could be seen undisturbed. Most were already torn off, some burnt into an unrecognizable charcoal while some shredded into several strands of its former glory. Up above, Noxian airships dotted the grey, cloudy skies in perfect formations. They flew over the gloomy city like a giant snare, trapping all of Demacia in its grasp. It was an exaggerated show of military might and power over the fallen Demacians.

The denizens had been kept in their ragged houses, only daring to peek out through ripped curtains or cracks of doors ajar. The menacing troops would march over, the endless sounds of their boots over the cold hard ground beating into the hearts of the Demacians. Even in the streets, everyone had an emotionless cask on their faces. No eyes would meet for they were only trained on the floor. No one had dared to look a Noxian straight in the eyes for the last time it had happened, it had resulted in a riot followed by a the executions of a thousand people. There were no life in the alleys crowded with people, no sound but the endless marching and no joy but the dark grey skies.

The entirety of the city had now been transformed into what resembled a slum, a mockery of its former glory. All the wealthy Demacians had either been purged of their wealth and property or executed if they had any political influence. The middleclass along with the poor, the majority of the populace, had mostly been transferred into the ragged slums around the city outskirts. The Royal Palace in the city's heart has been cleared and abandoned, turning into an empty building, void of any life and soul. Entering the city's core was strictly forbidden as it had become official Noxian grounds for their own, wicked purposes.

All over the place, speakers were booming constantly to remind the Demacians of their current fate.

"Denizens of Demacia! The rule of Noxus is now the rule of Demacia, everyone caught breaking the law, no matter the crime, shall be appropriately punished according to customs set by His Excellency, Grand Marshal of Valoran, Jericho Swain. Remember that your daily rations have recently been reduced by quarter piece of bread and ten grams of sugar. You are expected to receive your meals as normal and not to stir. If anyone is caught resisting the new changes, then the sentence shall be treason and death," the commanding voice thundered through the city air.

At the notion of reduced rations, many of the Demacians living in their shacks dreaded. Their hungry stomachs could not stand much more, let along the starved children. Desperate parents, and often even the frail elderly, have been fighting for food and water for their families. Chaotic crime has been running rampant in the ghettos with little intervention from the Noxian guards. It was their own way of weaving out the Demacian population and their way of causing suffering.

"Furthermore, the former King of Demacia, Lightshield the Third, has been captured, arrested and tried and found guilty of treason and conspiring against Noxus and peace. He shall be executed this afternoon at 3 o'clock precisely by guillotine and all Demacians must witness this event! There are no exceptions!"

It was the last straw. The mentioning of their King's death was too much for them. At this instant in the western sector of the city, an escalating crowd of angry Demacians rose out of their shacks and tents and marched against the city's walls, now guarded by ranks of Noxian archers. The Demacians were all a unified brown in their dirty rags.

"Free our King! Free our King! Free our King!" the chant quickly caught on. The mob had stood before the tower walls with the rows of archers aiming their arrows down below. Yet this did not deter the Demacians who had strands of their former pride and determination remaining.

"Free our King! Free our King!" the chant continued.

From the city walls, the gates opened and out poured a battalion of Noxian riders upon their black horses and donned in dark armor. They had their weapons drawn as they quickly filed out and surrounded the mob.

"Silence! Silence! I will not have disorder in my camp, silence you filthy wretches!" the captain of the cavalry ordered with a deep, harsh voice. He was a man of many battles with wicked scars running down his face and arm. There would be no compassion from this man.

"I said, silence! Or I will give the order to fire!" the captain ordered again.

Still, the mob had no intention of resting. They were throwing their fists in the air, chanting at their loudest. They had lived this humiliating life long enough and now, they wanted to take action. Then, one man from the mob stood out. He had a large, burly build with similar scars to the Noxian captain, suggesting a former soldiery status.

"Hmph, even if we stayed silent, what will change. Our lives will only keep being miserable, and this is all at the work of you Noxians! My twin daughters died last night because one of your men had come to our home and stole all our food and medicine. My wife had ended her life after that and you dare to tell us to stay silent?! We've had enough! We are hungry, angry but we still have our pride! Free our King! Free our King!" the man angrily hollered.

With that, the mob grew even more restless, their chanting now spreading to nearby sectors. The horses that the Noxians rode upon began to grow weary, neighing and hoofing the ground as order continued to deteriorate.

"That is it! If you want to die so bad, be my guest," the captain said. Then, he lifted his arm up and waved his finger, giving the signal to the archers above to let loose. Without any hesitation, the sounds of several hundred bows being fired filled the area, followed by the thuds of arrows embedding themselves into flesh and ground. Agonized screaming rang through the place before the mob expanded and charged unarmed at the Noxians.

Another revolt had rose and was crushed. The outnumbered and out-armed Demacian were slaughtered like pigs before the gates. Their bodies filled the now bloody ground as the Noxians began to pile them up before sending them all to the crematorium like a daily routine. Then, as though nothing had happened, the riders retreated back into the city and the archers returned to their posts.

* * *

The low rumbling of the skies above gave the auspices of a thunderstorm. Their grey, lifeless clouds drifted over the vast expanse of desert wasteland and casting their shadows over the people who had not seen the sun for ages. The endless sands blanketed the whole of the area between the city of Noxus and Demacia. It was once a lush green plain filled with life, now it was nothing more than a desecrated piece of land.

From the desert, a small Noxian convoy traveled in the direction of Demacia. In the centre was a carriage decorated with luxurious designs and jewels. The flag of Noxus fluttered high above it as the horses drew the carriage. Inside, Katarina and Talon sat opposite of each other. Talon was busy examining his many intricately hidden blades while Katarina stared dispassionately out the window.

It was empty, she thought. Not a single sign of civilization could be spotted outside on the desert plateau. Then, a few green spots caught her emerald eyes. A few, last surviving patches of grass lightly dotted the dark brown sands. Amused, she edged over her seat to get a better glimpse before they had disappeared back into the endless sands.

"Over a few dull blades of grass? That's unlike you," Talon remarked.

Katarina remained silent and returned back into her seat and resumed her gazes out to the vastness of the outside. She had heard of villages situated in this path before and was eager to spot a few but was only disappointed. She was greeted only by more sand and desolation. How did so many lives, so many villages and cultures become destroyed baffled her.

Suddenly, she felt crammed in the carriage, the toll of the lifeless desert affecting her. The stories of how the Great War decimated these lands were told everywhere throughout Noxian controlled territory. She wondered what life must've been like when the war raged, how horrifying it must've been for their last moments as the inferno of battle consumed them.

Once again, the desert enclosed on her. She felt isolated and alone and proceeded to draw the curtains over the window, before realizing the soft muffled sounds of the horse hoofs outside. She returned her attention back into the carriage and saw Talon sharpening one of his hidden blades with a whetstone. The sharp vibrant sound of each time the dagger slid across the stone had drilled into her ears.

"What's the point? There is no one left for you to kill, everyone's dead or thrown into prison," Katarina said.

Talon stopped the sharpening and gazed up from his hood.

"There is always someone, just like how there's still you and me," he said with a smile before returning to his daggers.

Katarina lightly scoffed before resting her head back onto her seat. She let herself sink into the soft, cozy cushions and stared into the red fuzzy ceiling of the carriage. Her crimson hair had matched perfectly with the interior to somewhat of her annoyance. She lifted her left hand and ran her fingers down the scar on her face. How painfully it was dealt, the agony of it all was still etched in her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment and allowed them to rest but her mind was still sharp as her knives. Her assassin instincts had kept her awake while allowing her to ease herself for a while.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Talon had stopped and was glaring at her.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"We are here."

Then, she realized the sounds of Demacia were beating just outside. With curiosity, she drew open the curtains and peered out of the carriage. It has been a few months since she was in the city but it had felt like years after all the changes. When she looked out, it was city completely alien to her. The once proud air of glory and dominance of Demacia has withered away into this pathetic form, not even a shadow of its past. The ragged atmosphere of the slums and stench of rotten garbage filled the cabin. The denizens were all demoralised, heads bowed low and eyes weary. Beggars and thieves run rampant in the dirt road and there was also this linger crying of children and elderly.

Everything was so grey, so lifeless, Katarina thought. Several times did the horsemen and convoy guards had to violent shove away starved Demacians and the desperate. Their coarse shouts and the sight of their blades would drive away most, except for the few truly in despair. The convoy was stopped completely once by a frail looking woman draped in a dark brown rag. She held dirtied brunette hair which must've shone like gold once and her two dark gems stared into the convoy in desperation. Her chapped lips shuddered controllably, each time drawing out a visible puff of breath.

Within the cabin Katarina heard the convoy master shout something vulgar. She looked out the window and saw a stream of guards rushing into the front as she wondered why they had stopped.

"Out of the way or be killed!" the convoy master commanded.

The woman only shivered before bringing her dead eyes up. "P-please… I beg o-of you… My son i-is sick, we need medicine."

Her voice was weak and nigh incoherent in the cold.

"Last warning, remove yourself from the path or you will be killed!"

The woman dropped to her knees and clasped her heads together. Two streams of tear then rushed down her face as she begged.

"Please! Please, have some mercy. S-spare us, have some humanity!"

The convoy master now annoyed had given the order for two guards to approach her with their blades drawn. The woman's eyes widened with horror fell onto ground and attempted to crawl away. Her sluggish speed was no match for the guards however as one of them picked her up by her hair and the other prepared to slit her throat. She began screaming frantically, using every bit of her non-existent strength to waggle and resist but it was of no use. Just as the blade was about to meet her flesh, the carriage's door swung open.

"What is the meaning of this? We cannot accept any delay," Talon said as he exited.

The two guards halted at the signal of the convoy master.

"Master Talon, this Demacian wretch has stubbornly lodged herself in our path. We will take care of this promptly, please return to your carriage we shall make haste."

Talon gave one quick glance at the woman from his hooded eyes before returning to the master.

"There is no point in dirtying our blades with such lowly Demacian. This is not a job for the elite guards now is it?" Talon said.

The convoy master contemplated for a second before giving the order for the two guards to throw the woman away to the side of the road.

"Yes, Master Talon, I understand. Now, would you kindly return to the carriage?"

Without any further words, Talon climbed back into the cabin. He saw Katarina gazing intensely out of the window and spotting the sobbing woman sprawled over the cold ground.

"Feeling sympathy?" Talon mocked.

Katarina was caught off-guard. She quickly closed the curtains before assuming her usual stern look again.

"Don't joke with me."

As the convoy continued forward, they soon encountered the high walls and gate where the revolt was just crushed earlier. The dark brown stains of dried blood still marked the dirt ground. Without any questions or demands, the massive double gates constructed of several feet of reinforced steel and concrete slowly rumbled open. These great Demacian walls could once survive a thousand year siege, now they are merely a tool of terror. Rows upon rows of Noxian banners hung from jagged spikes lined the walls, serving as a grim reminder of who is the charge. Occasionally, there were rotting bodies being hung from posts high upon the walls as a warning to those who dare defied the Grand Marshal.

As the convoy rolled into the city's forbidden inner core, the scenery had completely changed. When Katarina looked out of the window again, her jaws dropped in the sight of what laid within.


	3. The Gluttonous Warden

Chapter 2

All the buildings were gone. Demacia was not Demacia, not the one Katarina had known. The once bright and cheery residential areas and markets had been razed to the ground and replaced with Noxian work camps and labs. There were freshly dug tunnels and caves everywhere, marring the perfect soil grounds. Noxian workers and miners filled the area, carrying pickaxes, crates and heavy equipment. It was not a city, far from it. Hidden behind those walls was a massive excavation site.

Katarina had heard words of this spread amongst High Command back in Noxus, but only faint incoherent rumors. Now, she saw for herself. In the very centre of the city, the Royal Palace has been demolished completely. Instead it was a massive manmade descend several kilometres deep with rings of scaffolding and miners all the way down. It was a mile across and it had resembled a deep well like an abyssal entrance to Hell itself. Only very faint blue light from electrical lamps lit up the darkness like a swarm of fireflies at night.

As their carriage drew nearer to the main site, a stream of workers halted their duties and stood at attention, saluting the convoy as it passed. Katarina peered out and saw their many coal stained faces and dusty expressions. Outside, the occasional rumbling of heavy machinery filled the area along with the sounds of rock blasting into rubbles and the striking of a pickaxe against a hard surface. Katarina could not believe her own eyes. So much had changed in the city in just the span of a few months.

"What is this…" she muttered under her own breath. She then spotted several charred stumps of the old settlements and buildings. Some torn tents from the former marketplace were still evident as they littered the black, soot smeared ground.

"A digging site. From I had heard, Swain is looking for something, thought I know not what it is," Talon replied as though she was talking to him.

Katarina's eyes were trained on the charred remains of Demacia. She remembered the last time she had entered the city. It was that time that she was attacked by a group of Demacian guards, she thought she would've needed to draw blood in the middle of the city to defend herself but that one man saved her; that one man who was different from the other Demacians. She remembers his face well, his sturdy frame, his tall proud form and his deadly expertise with the sword. She had not heard from him for months after the Great War. During many nights she would ponder what had happened to him though immediately after she would convince herself that it was only foolish curiosity after a former Champion, nothing more. No one was a Champion anymore, the League and the Institute had failed to exist after being destroyed in the war. The Summoners were all round up and either became imprisoned or executed. Those who had conformed under Swain's rule were allowed to continue practising magic under the Noxian courts. Those who resisted faced the gallows. Without the Institute, there was no outer sense of justice anymore. The only right and law was from Swain's words, they were the absolute law of the land.

The convoy had stopped. They had reached the outer rim of the Deep Abyss, the local workers' name for the main site. Surround the deep descent was a ring of offices and lodges for the higher ranked officials residing in Demacia. The door to the carriage opened and instantly, the burning smell of sulphur and other chemicals stung Katarina's nose as she tried to hold back the tears. It was putrid and vile. Aside from that, ear shattering drilling could be heard screeching from deep in the abyss. She got of the steps and landed on the hard rock ground and gave a quick glance around. It felt as though the city was back in the days of industrialization. Metallic steel structures and beams along with iron booths and huts littered the place. Permanent black smog hovered over the skies, causing an even greater darkness than the clouds themselves. Heavy machinery and piles of coal were laid in mountainous heaps all over as waves of Noxian workers did their duties. There was not a single sign of natural life anywhere, not even a single blade of grass. There were no trees, no brushes, and no ferns. All of it had been deemed an obstacle and burned down after the Noxians took the city.

As Katarina gawked about, a drunken worker had accidentally bumped into her shoulders. The man wrecked with the stench of alcohol, as evident with the half empty bottle in his hand.

"Watch wer yer going ya-" the drunk rowdily jeered before his woozy eyes saw the red haired assassin. His jaws dropped when he saw who it was. He could still feel fear through his drunken stupor. "Oh… i-it's you Kata-"

Before he could utter her name, Talon's blade had already found its way through the flesh of his throat. With a few gurgling sounds, the man dropped the bottle of ale onto the ground and collapsed lifelessly. A pool of blood had gathered beneath him as it mixed into a dark sanguine liquid with the soot.

Talon then cleaned his blade with a cloth and discarded it.

"He had dared address you improperly. I will not allow the honor of the Du Couteau family to be so easily tarnished. Even if I must commit a great betrayal, I will protect it with my life," Talon coldly said.

Katarina had seen many deaths like this before, it had not surprised in that sense. She had known Talon to be like this for many years, this sudden, unpredictable yet fiercely loyal shadow of a man. Without a word, they had continued on as a two guards came and carried the body away. The two was followed by a trail of Noxian Elite Guards, dressed in impeccable armor and signifying the importance of this visit.

Up ahead, an official in his forties stood waiting. He had a receding hairline and two dull eyes and was dressed in bland grey robes with the Noxian crest woven onto the chest. He gave a quick wave to them.

"It is a great honor to have the presence of Miss Du Couteau and….?" The official said as he bowed and looked at Talon, unsure whether how to address him.

"You may address me as Talon," he said.

"Then, Miss Du Couteau and Talon. I have been informed of your visit, it is on a grave matter I believe?" the official asked.

"There have been words that a possible group of rebels of former Champions had gathered in this place. Our duty here is to find them, bring them to the light and have them executed," Talon said with Katarina nodding in agreement.

"Ah, is that so? Then I understand why you have come here. The Chief Warden has informed me of this and he would like to meet you," the official said.

Katarina raised her eyebrows in curiosity. She had not heard of a Chief Warden overlooking the dig site.

"Do not be alarmed, the Chief Warden is I believe a man you are all familiar with. Anyways, right this way please," he said and showed them the direction. They walked towards the largest building around, similar in design with the other metal boxes around yet much grander. Jagged spikes sprouted forth from all four walls, each with the banner of Noxus hung below. There were no windows on the buildings, only black holes with iron barring. It looked to Katarina more of a maximum security prison than a warden's office.

As they got past the thick walls protected by wicked looking barbed wire, they were meet with a pair of steel gates guarded by two massive warriors. Around the yard, waist deep trenches covered by lines of sandbags were dug in protective rings around the building. Every small section was manned by a guard with a black, metallic rifle. Pillboxes, which were essentially a smaller version of the main office, were planted in each corner of the walls with a small slit and a machine gun aimed, ready to unleash a barrage of bullets. Katarina amused herself with the thought of how easily it would be for her to sneak past these defenses and slay whatever she needed within the building. As a top assassin, this was merely a child's play for her.

The official approached the main entrance and retrieved a piece of tattered looking document from his sleeves. The guards gave one quick glance and proceeded to open the gates, revealing the lifeless grey halls inside. Within was brightly lit by hot blue lamps, giving an eerie glow to it. The artificial light had bathed the metallic chambers. It was bland, too bland, and too lifeless just like the deserts outside, Katarina thought.

They were led through the cramp halls, the convoy guards were left outside to wait. From both sides of the walls, monochromatic doors and even mockeries of paintings of art were hung tastelessly about. Some of the pictures were weirdly out of place yet all of them had the general theme of red in it be it a simple apple, a red feast upon a red table, a glass of fine wine to a morbid fountain of blood. The only colors within the Warden's Offices were sanguine and grey.

Then, they reached a door at the end of a long hall. Upon the door a sign hung but was unreadable because of a thick layer of soot smudged over. The door automatically swung open without a sound thanks to its meticulously well-oiled hinges. In an instant, a fragrant blast of sweet artificial perfume of a rose mixed with the slight, ever so slight hint of the iron in blood greeted them. Inside was a completely different atmosphere than the rest of the place; the walls were a delicate brown with wooden textures and the flooring was an expensive red carpeting soft as fur to the feet. Even the lighting was different, instead of the ghastly blue it was a warm light with a hint of orange bathing the room. The office was also well furbished with furniture of exquisite taste, many of them Noxian antiques. However, the morbid red paintings were ever present as they were hung in unusually large numbers all over the wooden walls.

In the centre of the room was a large rectangular table constructed from the finest pine trees, which had all but become extinct after the middle of Valoran became a desert. Two lamps were lit on both ends of the table, illuminating the mountains of paperwork piled on the desk. Behind the desk was a commanding, black leather chair with its back turned to them.

"Chief Warden, Miss Du Couteau and Sir Talon are here," the official announced.

After a slight hesitation, the chair slowly creaked towards them. Upon it sat a man dressed in an impeccable red coat, akin to something of an aristocrat. Intricate lacings and cufflinks were part of this expensive design. The man's pale blond hair was gelled up, turning into a hard reflective shell. His pupils were a dreadful white, void of any life and emotions yet his face held a grin almost too sinister.

As he stood up, he had this pretentious aura which had always annoyed Katarina.

"Oh," he greeted with a smug bow, his hand cupped over his heart, "it is truly a divine pleasure to have such a beautiful face here in my office."

He then walked towards her, his eyes trained on hers. Then, he gently took Katarina's the top of her left hand close to his lips yet not quite touching and smiled. She felt the insides of her hand tingle with zest as her blood were slowly drawn towards the tips of her fingers.

"Your pale skin, is just as seraphic as the crimson which runs beneath it," he softly said to her, almost whispering.

Katarina felt repulsed by his pompous and flamboyant front.

"Your words are too kind, Chief Warden," she said, displeased.

He then noticed Talon glaring at him with a threatening gaze, his fists clenched at the sight of him greeting Katarina. Smugly, he grinned again, revealing his unnaturally white teeth before backing away from her.

"I jest, my friend," he said as he walked back to his desk and poured himself a glass of wine from an expensive looking bottle. He twirled the reddened glass slightly in his hand before sipping it down. "Please, do not embarrass me with such formalities, we are old friends are we not? I beseech you to refer to me as simply Vladimir."

Then, he poured himself another glass, this time filled to the brim. The red liquid swirled about in his glass. Katarina was disgusted by it, she had despised the alcoholic stench no matter how fine or pure it was.

"You may leave us, we have important issues to address," Vladimir ordered the official and the guards as they exited the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind them.

"You understand why we are here?" Talon asked him.

"Of course, there is nothing that concerns Demacia which escapes me, I do like being well-informed and as… assassins… I believe you understand my notions," he said, making the word 'assassin' as though it was some mockery of a profession.

Talon silently grunted.

"You have come here to round up a few scurrying rebels and put an end to their charade, a noble cause but how exactly will you get to them? I'm simply curious at your plans," Vladimir asked.

"The execution of the King, when Lightshield the Third is on the guillotine, there will be no doubt that the rebels will try to do something then. That's where we can make contact and progress," Talon answered stoically.

Vladimir then gazed into the ceiling and stroked his chin as though he was contemplating something.

"Interesting plot, but I believe that I can be of service to you. You see, in these slums those Demacian filths line the alleys and sewers. Every corner you go there will always be one of them and it is inevitable that they all support the rebel cause. Unlike before, there will be no lead for you, no willing participants. No, not even torture will break them at this point, everywhere you go you will only find the frustration of resistance. It will be like searching for a needle in a haystack," Vladimir said as he downed his second glass.

"Then, what do you suggest?" Katarina promptly asked.

Vladimir's devilish grin never left his face like it was some sort of a twisted mask. His eyes snapped from Talon and pierced into Katarina.

"That's where I come into play. You may resort to physical means but I to magic, a powerful magic at that. This magic is nothing you've ever seen before, not during the Rune Wars, not from the Summoners, not from anyone," Vladimir said with a hint of excitement in his voice. Then, he leaned onto the table and his eyes became a furious intensity as though he was about to reveal the secret of the cosmos. "Are you aware of the purpose of this excavation site?"

Katarina reluctantly shook her head. The idea of a being so secretive that it is kept even from her bothered her. Vladimir, whose smirk had never vanished, downed himself a third glass of wine before tossing the empty bottle away into the trash.

"Underneath the city of Demacia, we found something of extraordinary value. Noxus always had an idea of its existence, but we never had the chance to embrace it. Now, we do," Vladimir said as he set aside his emptied glass and called for the guards outside. "Come, you must see this for yourself. Only the highest eyes may lay on it and I as Chief Warden would kindly like to invite you."

"If it serves us well in our search of the rebels, then by all means," Katarina said, trying to suppress her curiosity.

"I assure you that it will most certainly behoof you," Vladimir said, leading the party out of the room, "no words can describe its magnificence, its power is cosmic."

The two were led down an intricate design of halls and doors by Vladimir and a few selected guards. After several descents, Katarina was certain they were deep underground with flight after flights of stairs. It was an intended maze no doubt for they had even passed through several well hidden doors that any other could've easily mistaken it as merely part of the bland metallic walls. All the while Vladimir could not stop indulging himself in his extravagant stories and descriptions of the magical entity discovered deep below but never actually telling them precisely what it was which again annoyed Katarina even further. From the way he took his large prideful steps to his narcissism, Katarina felt more disdain for Vladimir with each passing second but she was still curious, keeping her silently attentive.

After about ten minutes of walking, the metal walls around faded away into the rocks of a dimly lit cave. The ground too had become natural and uneven with a simple wooden plank walkway as the only path down. It was narrow and cramped. When squeezing through a tight space, Katarina felt wet moss brushing by her. The cave was cool and humid and on closer inspection after her eyes were adjusted to the weak light, she saw that strands upon strands of moss and even small ferns and flowers filled the deep cave. Katarina was deeply amused; it had been so long since she had seen this sort of natural greenery. There were only a few, barely surviving naked trees in some forgotten corners of Noxus, then there was the harsh lifeless desert.

Soon, they arrived at a mining shaft as Vladimir talked on.

"Below here, five kilometers deep, is the prized secret. I hope that you are ready," he said. An elevator was summoned and arrived in loud creaks and shudders. It was a flimsy looking thing, with metal plates riveted on in a messy asymmetrical manner to cover up the many holes and leaks of this ragged lift. Inside it was not completely sealed as there were four openings on all sides, exposing the inner machinery and an endless wall of mossy rocks.

The three of them stepped in, leaving behind the last batch of guards for the cave entrance. As they descended, shrieks from the rusted metal grinding against the steel support beams ran in Katarina's ears. The entire elevator vibrated as it went as though it would come apart any minute. Their journey took quite some time, going down the entire five kilometers. The rocky walls were brushing past them at a quickening pace as she counted inside her head the time and their estimated depth.

It must've been more than fifteen minutes before the lift slowly halted to a creaking stop. As they landed, the impact of the shaft to the rocky base echoed and finally came to a standstill. As they stepped outside, they were met with one large hall with a massive pair of double gates at the other end. They were constructed with ten feet thick steel and had state of the technology locks and electronics protecting the sacred treasure that lay beyond it. Patrolling this large hall were platoons of specially selected guards wielding deadly rifles and energy blasters. Each and every single corner of the hall was being monitored by hidden cameras and such.

Along the walls of the cave ran thick pipes and wires and the occasion sparking. All of this advanced technology must've been stolen from Piltover, Katarina thought as they entered. Beyond the platoon of guards, several teams of Noxian scientists ran about with stacks of documents in their hands. As they approached the gates, the guards and scientists alike saluted Vladimir which he seemed to enjoy greatly.

When they were close enough to the gates, Katarina realized the size of it, towering over four stories high and thick as a city's walls, these two gates had weighed over a thousand tonnes combined.

"I need entrance to Project Zealot, along with two top guests," Vladimir ordered.

"Yes Chief Warden," a guard said and immediately signalled the other five in front of the gates. They all simultaneously turned and stabbed a key into small holes over the gates and twisted in a memorized pattern. When it was done, a loud rumbling came followed by the falling of dust from the cave's room. It felt as though there was an earthquake deep undergrounds as the two gates slid open and retracted into the walls.

"What you are about to see, shall change history my friends," Vladimir said, "Soon enough, this magic will be known to the world and all will tremble before it."

As they entered, Katarina's jaws dropped and her eyes widened in awe. She thought she had seen it all as an assassin but this was truly beyond her. Inside was a sight like never before; it was a massive round Coliseum towering three hundred feet high. In the centre was a massive tree, resembling an oak with its branches and leafs touching the very roofs. However, it was no ordinary tree. The very barks and leafs gave off this soothing green glow, an aura of life that had sharply contrasted the artificial blue lights just behind them in the halls. There was not a single lamp in sight as the entirety of the space was illuminated by this natural radiance, like a bright moon on a summer's night. Surrounding this towering tree were apparently little glowing wisps of all different colors acting like the caretakers of this magnificent oak.

As Katarina walked closer, she could feel her body being rejuvenated. Her fists were filled with power and energy and her mind sharpened with clarity. Even the scar on her eye slowly faded away as the years of life were being poured into her. She felt like she could take up her blade and strike down a hundred men at once without breaking a sweat as she continued to bathe in the soothing aura that pulsated from the tree.

"Truly beautiful isn't it, the sight of such a wondrous being upon the ruins of the desecrated world. Where else can you find such divine construct of nature?" Vladimir said as though taking to himself, "Oh, no words can do this beauty justice."

Talon scoffed. "So what, is this supposed to heal our enemies to death?"

Vladimir immediately snapped his eyes at him with an insulted expression.

"Do not be foolish, judging something before you even know. Do you see how no one is even daring going close to it?" Vladimir said, pointing to the tree.

Katarina had suddenly noticed while being captivated by its beauty that there is a barbed fence surrounding the tree, as though it was there to mock its beauty and mar its natural stance. A warning sign on the fence showed that it was electrified. It was built about twenty feet from the base of the tree itself which had no sign of anyone manmade disturbances whatsoever. Only its thick roots and its grand trunk stood tall.

"This is, the Tree of Life," Vladimir whispered out, and then he turned back to the two. "There is a reason why such a disgraceful construct must be placed. The Tree of Life is an ancient being, long before Man even settled, long before Valoran. This tree holds the power to all life above these lands, it is the symbol of life and its essence. The amount of energy from it is truly delicious and incomprehensible. As long as it exists, so will life."

Then, Vladimir took several steps towards it and soon reached the fence.

"You see…" he continued, "The power of it is so grand that no regular human being can survive it. As one approach it, they will find that their own life force will become drained into this vast, untapped pool. They will become nothing but a dried corpse. Allow me to demonstrate."

Then, he gestured for a team of guards to bring in a battered man in a white lab coat. He held a terrified expression on his face with shattered glasses and cuts and bruises over it as he shivered uncontrollably. Vladimir walked over to the man and lifted his dropped chin up, forcing his lifeless pupils onto the man's.

"Doctor Peterman, I'm truly glad that you could make it here today," Vladimir greeted like an old friend. He then released his grip of the man's face. He was being restrained by two guards.

"Pl-pl-please, I al-already told you e-everything you wanted to know! Please!" the man, known as Doctor Peterman stuttered in fear.

Vladimir smiled sinisterly. "That you did, didn't you. And for that I am most grateful. However, I'm sure you are well aware of the consequences of selling information of this project to an outside source, and in your case the rebels. It truly pains me to have to waste a brilliant mind such as yourself but, decisive actions are needed at times, no?"

Doctor Peterman shook his head like he was in denial and quickly broke down into a pathetic puddle of tears.

"I beg of you, you promised me! You said that you would let my family and I go if I just told you everything!" he begged.

Vladimir then rushed up onto the man and tightly grasped his mouth, forcing it open.

"And you promised me, that the day you were sworn into this project you would never allow one word of it escape through this facility. And I'm only learning from you that promises aren't meant to be kept, be grateful now of all your services you had given to Noxus," Vladimir hissed at the him. "Now now good Doctor, come, I must show to these fine people the power of the Tree."

The guards pushed him forward to the gates as he frantically screamed and kicked but it was futile. As he came closer and closer to the Tree, he tried turning his head away, trying desperately to keep as much distance as possible. When they came to the fence, the guards themselves too hurried away and gave Peterman into Vladimir's clutch. The electricity on the fence stopped as signalled by a green light on top.

"No! Please! I beg you!" the Doctor cried but was only ignored as both he and Vladimir passed a small gate and into the red zone of the Tree. Immediately the effects became apparent. The Doctor's skin became pale as snow and his body seemed to rapidly shrink to the bones. With each step closer, the horrified Doctor screamed in agony until his vocal chords could only produce incoherent gagging. Then, the Doctor dropped to his knees as they were now just five feet from the wooden barks. From his emaciated spine a ghastly aura of green and blue exited it and slowly drifted towards the Tree but quickly it was redirected by Vladimir as he gluttonously devoured it and moaned in exquisite pleasure and then dabbed the corners of his lips as though he just had a grand feast. The Doctor fell to the ground, now nothing more than a dried up corpse. His eyes had melted away, leaving behind two dark holes with a screaming expression on his grey face. His glasses had no longer fit his face and fell off. His coat had loosely flapped about over the skeleton sprawled on the floor.

Katarina groaned in silence, disgusted by what she had just seen. The desecration of the body went against her for she had always believed that a target must be left in a dignified matter, as long as they were dead. A single cut of her daggers upon the flesh was a sign of pride to assassins. One quick strike and it was all over, nothing too overtly extravagant or you could've been discovered very quickly. This was one lesson she had learned long ago, taught by her father.

Vladimir exited the fenced area unscathed, leaving the corpse behind.

"There's a reason why they choose me to be Chief Warden. No one here but me has the power of magic over life. I am able to keep my own life forces within me even when in proximity for the Tree albeit only for an hour at most, any other being would've ended up just like him. I'm the only person who can study its wonderful magic up close," Vladimir said.

"Then what, we bring the rebels here and shove them into that thing?" Talon sarcastically remarked, still doubtful of its usefulness.

"As I said earlier, all life above upon Valoran is empowered by the Tree of Life. It's a web with many interconnected bonds. Each of our lives, yours, mine, everyone's are all intertwined in this cosmic design. With this Tree, I can peer into one's life if I so desired, even a fly's I can fully understand. Your emotions, your pains, your suffering can all be felt, just as those rebels you are searching for can."

"Then, do you know who we are looking for?" Katarina asked.

"If you know who you are looking for, then so will I. Now, would you excuse me and give me a little space, I assure you this will not take up any more of your time Miss Du Couteau," Vladimir said as everyone backed up several feet from him. He then raised both his hands towards the tree. Then, an unholy crimson aura rose from his body and swirled violently like a maelstrom. From the Tree itself a ray of its force was being drawn to Vladimir which mixed with his own life forces. The process quickly escalated as the two powers intensified. A bright green light radiated from the Tree, causing everyone to shield their eyes. As he continued, he groaned in agony. The flesh on his hands began to melt away, leaving behind sinew and bones and his face seemed to unnaturally age. His whole body shuddered now it was about to explode but then just as quickly as it had begun, the whole process was over.

Vladimir gave an exhausted sigh walked back to them. The wounds on his hands healed themselves and his age returned to normal. He had a somewhat surprised look on his face.

"Interesting… Truly interesting, oh how the plot thickens," he said smiling, amusing himself. "I cannot believe that he is still alive, oh cruel world what will you think of next?"

"What of the rebels we seek?" Talon impatiently asked.

Vladimir snapped away from his own thoughts and returned his attention to the assassins.

"You were wrong Talon, these rebels do not aim to strike when the execution will take place. It was most interesting, I sensed reluctance as though they desire to save him yet they also do not. A magnificent puzzle for you to solve I'm sure. They will make their move soon however, soon after the King's death. It would appear that they have already prepared and know that Lightshield the Third's life ends today," Vladimir explained.

Katarina and Talon gave each other puzzled glances.

"That is unfortunately all I can do for now as you see, contact with the Tree of Life is quite exhausting. I will require my rest now, if you may," Vladimir said as he politely gestured them out of the arena.

Then, they got back to the elevator and began their fifteen minute ride back to the surface. Immediately, once outside, the smell of soot and metal returned.

"I will be here if you wish of my aid again, now, I bid thee farewell," Vladimir said and bowed before returning to his office.

The two exited the building and found the convoy guards waiting for them.

"Master Talon! The execution will take place in an hour, what are your commands?" an Elite Guard asked.

"Take your men and watch over the city, the rebels may strike any time soon," Talon ordered. The guards saluted him and proceeded to the city's slums and execution arena.

Katarina began down the stairs when she was stopped by Talon.

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"To the execution, I do not trust some magical words of an old tree," she replied before leaving the court. As she left, she took a quick glance at her sheathed daggers. She only trusted the steel that she carries. With one sharp cut, a life can either be ended or spared. Her decisions and mind must be just as sharp, if not sharper. She lifted her hand and felt her scar once again. It had returned, it always will be there as a reminder of how her own blades saved her life. She had trusted only them.


	4. Rising Fury

Chapter 3

**AN: Hey guys, just a little word from me. I've been wondering how you guys like my story(s) or my writing. I've always been looking for review and constructive (or negative, but as long as you give a valid reason) feedback so I can do a little better each time. So it will be great to see how you like the direction this new story is taking. Anyways, continue reading and enjoy!**

**Also, for those who had been wondering this was a sequel to my other story I will say yes and no. Yes it is the same universe after what had happened and no because this will take a fresh side with Katarina. The premises are the same, Swain takes power. However, this story will about the fight against him, nothing from the past but that doesn't mean they won't appear again.**

* * *

The grey clouds above growled like a wild beast at the onset of a thunderstorm. Katarina walked about on a steel balcony not too far from the square where the execution was to take place. She checked constantly at the clock hanging inside on a wall every few minutes. The ticking of time seemed to slow as the execution approached. She felt this tingling nervousness that she had not felt in a long time, not since her first real kill from the shadows.

'_2:28', _the clock read. _'2:35'. '2:46'._

Katarina sighed, it was going excruciatingly slow for her. She had kept her eyes open, her mind attentive and her senses sharp as her blades as she meticulously surveyed the square from above. It was a former market where lively denizens would go about merrily on their daily business, now it served the exact opposite purpose. A single wooden platform had been constructed in the centre with a ring of Noxian guards surrounding it, forming a protruding wall of pikes. On the platform was the sight of nightmares; the guillotine. Standing wicked and tall, its high, raised angled blade was a grim reminder of the Demacian fate. Many heads had been severed upon that deadly contraption and many wills to resist were crushed on that spot.

A crowd had formed around in the square and many of them were battered and starved looking. Murmuring and light commotions were coming from them, causing the guards to threaten with their pikes several times as they tried to keep the order. Katarina noticed one person below. She seemed like a middle-aged mother taking along her ten year old son around the outskirts of the square where they went about unnoticed. She hurried about and kept her and her son's fixated on the ground and in her free hand clutched a tight fist with a little piece of white exposing from her fingers. Katarina's instinct tells her that the woman was of suspicion. She kept her attention on the strange woman and her son before they quickly disappeared back into the crowd, vanishing into the sea of people.

'_2:56'._

Upon the platform, a stern stream of guards led by a menacing hooded executioner appeared. Trailing behind them was a frail, weary old man in chains and prisoner rags. He had an aged yet wise look but was marred by bruises and a messy, untrimmed beard. His appearance was the shadow of a former King yet Katarina saw in his eyes a flame that burned with passion. A will to resist had still existed within him, a flame that could spread and instigate a rebellion.

As he dragged his bare feet across the splintered platform, the crowd began to stir. It was a desire to see their King freed, but not said. They knew if they had spoken against it they too will face the executioner's axe yet they stir. Mumbling and discontent sounded from the square that was now packed with people.

The King was brought before a single granite block with the top carved out to fit a neck upon. His chains were then removed by the guards as they left the platform, leaving the King with the axe. There was no fear, no regret and no trembling from the King. He stared at the block intensely not out of some grim, final thoughts but that of readiness. It was as though he was prepared to address a nation with a speech. His gazes lifted and surveyed the crowd, his passionate eyes meeting theirs and a fury sparked.

After a chill wind had passed, the King began to speak. "Men, women and children of Demacia, do not see this as an act of defeat. Today, my sacrifice will not be in vain and I assure you my words are honest. My death will only serve a greater purpose. Remember this well in your heart, that one day, you will be free again. Remain strong! And remember who you truly are, Demacians!"

With those final words, the King lifted his right hand to his heart before prompting bringing to into the sky, pointing at the Heavens above. It was a familiar gesture that Katarina heard about. It was a gesture of defiance and freedom and the symbol of the Demacian heart ascending to the clouds. It was the Rebel's signature gesture. Suddenly, Katarina could hear faint gasps from the crowd as all became silent. The executioner shoved the King onto his knees and placed his neck on the block. Below, to her surprise, the Demacians did not shield their eyes, they had watched intensively as though they were ordered by their King. The axe raised as the King relaxed his eyes and gave a final breath before it came down on his neck. His life was severed, along with his head yet only silence came from the crowd as the sanguine river spilled down the platform and slowly seeped into the cracks of the ground. Katarina waited for any signs of chaos and commotion but then the miracle occurred. Altogether, the crowd too had saluted the Rebel's salute. Thousands of right hands were raised into the air, aiming for the paradise that they had believed in. It was a passive resistance and a gesture of defiance but no actions, not yet.

The Noxian guards responded by violently pushing the crowd again in an attempt to disrupt their symphony but it was of no use. At the sight of their dead King, the Demacians retaliated by fighting back and resisting the guards' brutality. An escalating roar was stirring in the square as more and more Noxian reinforcements came to suppress them. Katarina saw no rebels and decided that a simple unrest could be dealt with by the guards. Perhaps the Tree was right, she thought, though it probably must've been a coincidence.

As she returned back inside to escape the chill, Talon appeared before her.

"A strange move don't you think?" he asked her.

"A move on what?" she replied as she sat down on a nearby table and lightly sipped some hot tea from a mug.

"You know what it is. Why would Swain allow a public execution like this? It would've only served to promote the Demacian's resistance and fervor," Talon said, sitting down across from her.

"Who knows what he is up to? I don't really care if he wants to blow up Demacia for some foolish buried Tree, all I've come to do is round up the rebels and finish them off, do not bother me with anything else" Katarina coldly replied.

"True, but that does not mean you can turn away from him forever. Eventually he will catch up to you. You need to be careful, your father is-"

Katarina snapped her eyes at Talon, silencing him. She held a deadly look, almost insulted and for a moment had an aura to kill emanating from her.

"I apologise but I'm only being considerate for you, I had sworn to your family and you. It is a duty and my life," Talon said.

Katarina laid down her half emptied mug as the soft steam still rose from it.

"I would rather you be considerate for me by helping me with the mission."

For a few moments, silence ensued from them as Katarina finished her mug of tea which warmed her insides. At the end of the room hung a large painting of the Grand Marshal, it had become law that each household were to have some statue or picture of Swain placed in a dignified manner to represent Noxian strength and pride. Katarina stared at it with disgust, wanting to just tear the canvas to shreds with her knives and risk the death sentence. She gripped her daggers tightly at the thought of having Swain order her and Noxus around.

"You were so eager to accept this mission yet you still look troubled," Talon remarked, breaking the silence.

Katarina faintly sighed and turned her eyes to the grey skies as the thick clouds drifted past.

"I just wanted to escape from Noxus," she wanted to burst out saying, "I can't stand the city, it feels like it is choking me." "Noxus is no better than Demacia right now." All these things she wanted to confer with someone but she couldn't, not with Talon, not with anyone, she could only hold it in her heart.

"Perhaps you need some time then, I will leave for now but we must go in ten minutes. We should start our investigations quickly. I will wait for you outside," Talon said before excusing himself from the room. With him gone, Katarina relaxed her mental shield and laid back onto the cushion of her chair. She took out one of her knives and fidgeted with it on the table, making several deep marks upon the wooden surface, leaving the evidence that she was ever there. She took the edge up to her eyes and inspected the reflective side and saw herself in it. Her piercing emerald eyes, the scar that ran down one of them, her deceptively deadly looks and her hair. The crimson river that ran down to her back, it was silky and soft, unfitting of an assassin. She put her dagger away and combed her hair with her hand, allowing the fragile strands to run between her fingers. It was one of the last few treasures she had held dear to her. She had learned harshly that as an assassin, one cannot have obvious treasures for they would become their fatal weakness. To her, she had embraced two things that no others would suspect and one of them was her hair that she had sworn to not be cut ever since childhood.

After some more silence, she gathered herself and prepared to leave before checking the clock one last time.

'_3:28', _it ticked.

* * *

After sending the Elite Guards over the city, Talon and Katarina had decided that they would spread themselves and investigate the market area in the slums. It was not actually a market per say but rather several makeshift stores constructed from metal scraps and wood and were mostly held by kind enough Demacians with a surplus of needs and goods. They did not accept money; instead they accepted the ration cards that the Noxians gave them. The market was shanty, but it served its purpose well enough. It was also immensely huge as it needed to accommodate the millions of Demacians living outside the walls. The countless stalls and roads that forked in every direction had constructed a perfect maze, filled with those who had desired to rebel against Noxus. It was also the best place to start their investigations.

As Katarina strode down an aisle filled with stalls that stunk of garbage and rotten meat, she was met with many threatening and accusing glares. She paid no attention to them and instead focused on her flanks. She was vulnerable at this space, at any moment a would-be aggressor could come at her with a hidden shank or a poisoned dagger. She kept her arms close to her knives and her feet nimble, ready to kill anyone daring to assault her. Each step she takes on the dirty road, she puts herself in further danger. She could hear the low murmuring and whispers spread like wind across the stalls but she kept focused on her path ahead.

Talon was to scout around the outskirts of the market area and in case of any signs of trouble he can then immediately enter the market's heart with haste to assist Katarina. She approached the market's centre which was a simple clearing with an oak tree in the middle to mark it as their 'plaza'. The Demacians would gather around here for most news and events and sometimes just to simply have conversations and meet with acquaintances. The area was also patrolled by no less than four Noxian platoons with the orders to kill anyone who they had deemed a danger to their rule.

One of the platoons were circling the plaza now, chasing out any lingering Demacians like rats. The captain of the platoon saluted Katarina, followed by the guards themselves. She had always hated this type of greeting and tradition for she was an assassin and something as fancy as saluting will surely put her into the light. Quickly, she acknowledged the men in order to melt herself back into the crowd.

"Miss Du Couteau, my men has been searching the markets left and right but we haven't found anything just yet," the captain reported.

Katarina suddenly felt watched. She quickly examined her surrounding to spot a pair of spying eyes but could only find more rotten stalls and junk.

"Patrol these areas tightly, rebel activities may stem from here," Katarina said, still suspicious as her eyes gazed around.

"Yes ma'am!"

With salutes from everyone, the platoon spread out and prepared another round of patrol around these tight alleys and stalls. As the guards readied themselves, Katarina walked over to the oak. It was a dying tree, its dry bark and brittle leafs thirsted for care. The garbage and pollution from the nearby stalls had taken its toll on this single lone tree, the only surviving piece of nature that could be seen from miles of desert and Noxian industry. Katarina ran her fingers down the harsh bark. The oak's branches were nearly stripped bare like an elderly's teeth, only a few brave leafs grasped on. When a breeze comes by, the leafs would waver and rustle as though they were about to fall. It was a miracle she thought that such life could still maintain itself in a desolate place. The magnificent tree had given off a faint fragrance of sweet wood, a smell that she had not sensed in a long time. She looked about, curious to see if the oak had given off any seeds so that she may take some with her and grow more. However, the surrounding ground had nothing more than hard dirt and trash and decomposed leafs.

Suddenly, Katarina felt a sharp projectile whistle through the air. Her acute hearing caught the sound of iron entering flesh, followed by the chokes of gurgling and finally a body collapsing onto the ground. She turned around and saw the captain lying on a pool of slowly expanding blood with a bolt protruding from his jugular. The guards took a few moments before they had even realized what had happened but Katarina already saw it all. From the corner of her eyes a black cloaked figure dashed about and vanished into the market stalls.

"Leave the captain and go after him!" Katarina ordered as a few guards attempted to carry the body of their commander away.

Katarina ignored the slow guards and gave chase. Her nimbleness and speed as an assassin served her well as she leapt over stalls and fences and sprinted down the road after the cloaked figure. If it were any other person, the killer would've already escaped but Katarina was no ordinary being, even as an assassin she was superb. Her legs ran as one with her lithe and sleek body as she sliced through the wind after her target. She felt refreshed once again, like her first kill as the cool air brushed past her face with her flowing hair trailing behind.

With each jumps, each dash and each roll she came closer and closer to het target. It felt like another contract, another kill, it was the one thing that had always thrilled her. As the cloaked figure came into sight, she now no further than ten metres from him. She then reached for one of her knives and aimed it with one hand before throwing it with deadly precision. The spiralling blade flew straight at her target's back and was mere inches from striking him. Just as Katarina thought it was all over, the target tumbled away and dodged the knife without even looking. Katarina was surprised at such reaction and speed; she had not seen this type of skill ever since the League collapsed. She felt a new joy surge through her body with energy.

With a sharp turn, the target flung had himself into a stall, temporarily disappearing from sight.

"Oh no you don't!" Katarina said, excited from this hunt. Then, as agile as her target, she too turned and continued the chase. She spotted him running along the tattered roofs of the market and quickly climbed above with one swift jump. As she ran after him, she could feel the unstable foundation of the roofs from the makeshift stalls. Each step you took, it had bounced loudly as the sole of her leather boot struck the steel coverings.

Katarina then reached for another blade when suddenly her target halted and turned to her and took out what appeared to be a silvery crossbow. With instincts fast as a hawk, Katarina barely managed to dodge three soaring bolts which would've found themselves lodged in her heart if she was any slower. The bolts were deadly accurate, she thought, this was no ordinary assassin.

Soon, the chase had ended them at the eastern outskirts of the market where the stalls and buildings were now much less dense. Instead, large expanses of dirt fields and sands lay as far as the eye could see into the desert and away from the city walls. The cloaked figure jumped down at the edge of one of the stalls and once again vanished, this time for good. When Katarina reached the ground, she could no longer feel his presence. She glanced left and right with her daggers held up in a defensive stance. There was not a single soul in sight, nor any sound, only silence filled her ears.

Cautiously, she eased her steps about, making not a single noise. Her feet were light as feather, her senses sharp as they daggers which she wields. Her emerald eyes never stopped moving, constantly surveying her surroundings. She was vulnerable at this point, she knew she was being watched, but from where?

Suddenly, the corner of her eyes caught the glimpse of a black figure sneaking about and instantly she fired one of her knives at it and heard it strike. She quickly approached her hit and found that her dagger pinned to a stall with a piece of black cloth on it. She took her knife out and held the cloth to her hands and examined it. It felt rough, yet slightly oily as though someone had painted it with a strange substance. She then followed her senses and continued down a tight road. Eventually, she found herself in an alleyway between two brick walls. Hanging above were lines of drying laundry and boarded up windows, but no one in sight. She held up her blades and entered with extreme caution. The winds now blowing slightly harder did not deter her senses. These were the results of years of training, Katarina could spot a mouse in a cornfield and hear a pin drop in the often silence of her home.

As she ventured deeper into the alleys, her path soon began to fork into a mazelike construct. She had left the market and entered the residential area surrounded by both wooden and brick houses yet again, no one about. She though it was strange, as though she was caught in some theatrical play and her the puppet. The unease of eyes watching her every step lingered in her stomach. A cruel play it was, and the audience the residents, mocking her with every intent. She gripped her daggers tightly, her body beginning to tense up. After realizing this, she took a deep breath and relaxed her mind before continuing.

Left, then right, then left then right again. She kept going like this but ended in no result. It must've been almost half an hour before she began to think that her target had escaped. This would've made it the first time in her life that she had been unable to track down and kill someone she had desired. However, quickly she would find that this was quite wrong when she heard spotted a crouched being cloaked in black ahead of her, completely unaware. She saw a torn edge in the cloak knew that she had not lost her target. Eagerly, she crept up to just a few metres behind him and mentally aimed her knife slicing across his throat. Without a single sound, she flashed before her target and did exactly just that. She felt her blade cut through the flesh of throat, followed by the gush of blood. The crouched figure collapsed face first into the dirt without any gasps or reactions.

Wiping her blade off and happy of her work, she proceeded to turn her slain target around to see his face. To her utter surprise, it was a Noxian guard who was already well into the stages of rigor mortis. This was not her target but a corpse that had died days ago. Her eyes widened and her mouths opened for a gasp at this find.

_A trap! _

Suddenly, a voice called in the distant. It belonged to Talon. "Katarina! Are you in here?"

Just as she was about to turn around to greet his callings, her eyes caught a glimpse of a massive man with a huge blade in hand coming fast at her. Just as she was about to retaliate, she felt a sudden sharp pain to her mind and her vision blurred and her senses dulled. It was the symptoms of poisoning, but from what? She tried to dodge but found that her feet would not respond as the man approached her. By now, she could no longer detect the colors of the world and only saw the warrior-like silhouette towering over her. She was falling, her consciousness slipping as well. When her back landed on the hard dirt ground, her hearing became the first to go. All sounds became an incoherent ringing. Then, it was her smell, her taste, her touch and finally her sight as her surroundings became black.

'_5:48'_


	5. Changed Heart

Chapter 4

Her senses began to return to her. She could now feel herself and her body as a conscious entity floating through empty space. As the seconds ticked by, soon her mind began to come back into the physical plane and she realized that she was lying upon a cold hard stone ground and something tight around her wrists. She struggled to move but a heavy gravity kept her down, she felt numbness and slight pain echoing in her bones as she wriggled about. She tried to open her eyes but could only see an incomprehensible blur but she could now hear the squeaking of rat scurrying around her, hungry for food.

She noticed now that her wrists had been bound by a thick, rough rope behind her back which had twisted her arms uncomfortably. She woozily regained her balance as she got onto her knees and pressed her back against the stone cold masonry for support. Her vision was still weak as she shook her head about, trying to clear her mind but it was of no use as the general numbness in her body persisted. However, she could make out the faint outlines of several iron bars held vertically in front of her and the cramped square room of stone she was being held in. It was a jail cell.

Along with the sound of the rats, Katarina could also hear distant chirping of birds outside in their nests upon those high trees. She wondered about her location and circumstances. Perhaps she had been captured by the rebels and they were preparing her for torture for information and afterwards, they will then kill her. She was in a helpless state as she now realized another dreadful matter; all her weapons were gone. Along with her drugged body and mind, she had not a single chance of retaliation or escape.

What were they going to do to her she wondered, she minded no pain nor torture but she had learned after years of Noxian life that torture did not only come in the form of physical pain. Torture was best served in the mind for wounds only last days, scars of the mind last forever. But again, she had her rule as an assassin in that no one else may know your weakness and what you held dear. She had seen men that loved nothing and was a mere shell trained to kill, that was the pinnacle assassin her father had taught her years ago. They feared nothing for they had nothing. No amount of torture could bring them down, you could threaten their lives, their city, and their family if they had any but they will not buckle, instead they will only ask for two things; to kill them and let them starve to death.

Katarina shuddered at the thought of that, she wasn't the perfect assassin, and she had a plethora of weaknesses. She was only human, only so strong, and now evident by her situation. She pondered what questions they will ask her, will pain they will bring and most of all if they truly knew that. That, was her greatest fear, for others to see right through her transparent cask and know the Katarina that only she knew.

"So you are awake, Noxian, shame you didn't die to the Zaunite shroom, how ironically funny it would've been," a cold, female voice said from outside those bars.

Katarina instantly stiffened as her perpetual blindness did not allow her to prepare herself. She tried to free her arms but found that all strength had left their body, she was completely open and vulnerable and at any moment if her captors had wished, they could end her life at this moment. She opted to remain silent, preferring an assassin's death if it were to be the case.

"Hmm, you think you can act strong? Let's see how long that can last," the voice said again. It sounded familiar, too familiar. Katarina had heard this voice many times before, it had belonged to the one person that always impeded Noxus, the one that always stood in the night and hunted from the shadows, just like her.

"Though you did get my cape pretty good, good aim if I was to say, too bad you had to touch it after I coated it with the poison. A precautionary detail really, but you had the work sorted out for me. Luckily for you, it was only a diluted dose, though I would've preferred the regular one," the voice continued followed by a faint laughter. "Staying silent heh? Hmm, you must be wondering who I am right now, I see your eyes, your pupils are still dilated. The poison hasn't worn off yet. Judging by my voice, I'm sure you can already guess."

Underneath her breath, Katarina muttered, "Vayne."

"I sure brought you on a merry chase Noxian, though you were much faster than I expected. I thought that all these months of living the lavish life surely would've made you slower than that blockhead Garen," Vayne said.

"Garen…? You are all…. Alive…?" Katarina weakly asked.

Vayne chuckled, "I don't think that it would really matter for you now would it, but you probably would've wanted that wouldn't you. Huh, being captured by a bunch of 'pathetic rebels' as the Grand Marshal would say, what sort of fine assassin must you be?"

Those words struck Katarina, in some sense she agreed reluctantly, all the years that she had been trained to avoid a situation like this and now she finds herself in one.

"Then… kill me… I have nothing to say… to any of you," Katarina said, remembering the perfect assassin's codes.

Vayne approached the cell and crouched, bringing herself level with the slumbered Katarina. On her back was a massive crossbow that hung effortlessly, the same bow that had taken the lives of many Noxian officials.

"Don't be so grim, we aren't going to kill you, probably. Even if you think you are can go down laughing in hell at us, we will get to you."

Katarina groaned, "you will die… with me… Noxus will find this place…."

Vayne shrugged and brushed her shoulders, "You haven't found this place, the so-called best assassin in Noxus. I don't think a bunch of those blockheaded guards will. The only reason why you are even here is because we wanted you to. You gotta understand, there is a lot more of us then just here, everyone in Demacia hates your kind, and we've got a lot more support than you think."

Just as Katarina was about to retaliate, her head began to wobble again as the darkness crept from the corners of her eyes. Her consciousness rapidly slipped despite her efforts to grab onto it as she slowly fainted back into her black world.

"Oh, it's setting in, good, rest up now, you will need it soon," Katarina could hear Vayne's voice trailing away as she collapsed back onto the cold ground and her mind slipped away.

"_Hello? Is there anybody in there?" a voice asked Katarina._

"_No," she coldly replied._

"_That's absurd, you've got someone in there, everyone's got something, wake up sunshine!" the annoying voice continued to probe._

"_No," she replied once again._

_The voice grunted in contemplation of a new tactic. _

"_If you tell me, I will give you some candy!"_

"_No, get out of here," she retorted, now annoyed._

"_You know… No matter how many times you say no, that doesn't REALLY mean no, there is no point in hiding long as there is something in there it will eventually be found."_

"_There is… nothing…" Katarina said, now losing her aggression._

"_Really?" the voice sarcastically asked._

"…_I….don't…"_

"_There's gotta be something, just give it time, and it will show itself eventually. No need to hold it back," the voice echoed in the dark._

"…"

A bright light nearly obliterated her closed eyes as a sharp pain entered her head. She opened her eyes and was greeted by a furious lamp right above her head beating down on her, casting away all shadows. She blinked several times, trying to get a sense of what was happening and as she looked around, she realized she was bound to a chair with her arms behind the back. She could see now and could think properly as the poison's effect withdrew.

She was in a compact square room with a construct similar to her cell with the stone walls and dusty grounds with a hanging lamp in the centre. Before her lay a wooden table with rotten legs as a result from decades of water and rats but it remained stable and functional at this time. Across from her was another chair, currently empty but was most likely reserved for her interrogator.

With her strength and senses back, she wiggled her arms about to feel the rope which bounds her and felt the harsh, rough surface tightly knotted around her wrists. She twisted her fingers and could touch the knot itself but was unable to see it, after some examination she made it out to be a simple overhand knot, most often used by Demacian scouts. She moved her slim wrists up and down, trying to slip out and to her escape and the knot slightly loosened but still bounded her tightly.

She looked around the room, trying to find a sharp protrusion from a wall which she can then use to sever the thick rope. Indeed upon the door, the only entrance into room was a splinter sticking out from where the knob is supposed to be. She thought about making her way there as her feet were not bound but she had to ensure that she wasn't being watched. She felt no presence around her, no spying eyes as she attempted towards the door when suddenly it swung open. From behind a person all too familiar appeared with Vayne watching from out the doorway.

Garen! He was the man who she had sworn to kill or be killed by, the man who she could not defeat in open combat, the man who rushed to her aid in the name of so called honor and the only man that has ever kept her awake at night pondering when their blades shall cross again. His tall mighty form, now no longer donned the proud Demacian plates gleamed with gold and navy but a ragged armor similar to that of a bandit's. His outer pride has vanished along with his uniform and weapons, casting away all superficial glory with his messy yet trimmed hair and an unshaven beard. One quick glance at him and one would think him a homeless beggar who had been discharged from an army, a man with no pride. For a second, Katarina ached at this sorry sight, relishing on the great Demacian warrior that had duelled her once.

There he was, this intriguing Demacian before her and nowhere else, nowhere to hide. All raw emotions and words could be exchanged in this very room and space. As he shut the door behind him and leaving Vayne outside, he approached her with a seemingly disappointed look, disappointed that Katarina had gotten captured. His two eyes that had once burned with passionate flames were now doused with a dull weariness, tired from days of fighting both in and out and only desiring an end for it all.

Katarina stiffened her body, trying to summon an emotionless cask to shield her from any inquisition and judgement whilst training her eyes on the ground, away from his. She kept her breaths silent and her muscles still and to the best of her extent to becoming a mere living corpse, undisturbed by any soul yet Garen approached her and recognized the woman before him. He took out the chair opposite of her and sat down and arched his two hands before gazing into Katarina. After a prolonged silence, he cleared his throat and leaned back as he relaxed his form.

"It has been some time," Garen began, breaking the silence.

Katarina refused to show any sign of life and continued gazing into a wall with a grunted expression, her hands still bound behind the chair.

"You were knocked out for three days, the poison had to take its course," Garen said with an indifferent tone.

Katarina shuffled a bit to ease her twisted arms.

"You look uncomfortable like that. I would untie you but you know our situation," Garen pointed out.

Katarina lightly scoffed at his foolish attempts at approaching her before returning to her deadened state. Garen noticed and shook his head.

"I'm not trying to get you to talk or anything, but it would be greatly appreciated if you did," Garen said with a weary tone. He gave her a few seconds to see if she would indeed comply but again, only silence.

With a sigh, he continued, "I never thought you would let yourself be captured like this, this is a surprise. A woman of your finesse surely could've escaped by now, unless you were planning to be captured and that would put us all at risk. Or maybe you slipped? Is it true that after having dulled your blades and senses for so long that you have lost your lustre?"

Katarina thought of the hypocrisy in his words, if anything he had lost what once appealed to her. If she still had but a single dagger she could've easily slit his throat and escaped she thought. The faint shadow of a formerly proud and powerful Demacian sat before her.

"So, you probably won't answer but, tell me how life in Noxus is like now. You've seen Demacia, and you must be pretty happy in Noxus with all that power and such," Garen said as the worn lamp buzzed and flickered for a moment before regaining its luminosity. "I just wanted you to know that well… I suppose I can't hate you for what you are, you are now simply an enemy, as you always had been just as I always had been and will be a Demacian. I had for some time longed for us to duel again but I suppose that is impossible now. My blade has been dulled, too dull. It will take time for it to sharpen again. You live a happy life, that's good, that's good… At least some of us are happy."

_Happy?! _Katarina wanted to burst out saying that she is miserable, she is pathetic, she hated Noxus now but when she looked to the Demacians, she knew she had no right to complain. But, she was anything but happy, far opposite for this foolishly naïve ideal called happiness, an impossible paradise, unachievable.

"You're wrong," she managed to say which caught Garen off-guard, "there is no happiness."

"You…"

Katarina, realizing that she had said too much, quickly glanced away, breaking the brief moment of contact they had.

"Whatever you feel, many of us still fight on to resist Noxus' rule. You've seen what Noxus had done, I do not believe for one second that you are indifferent towards it, whether you are sad or happy, you must feel something," Garen asked, only to be disappointed by further stubbornness. "You have seen the deserts and those burned destroyed villages. What do you think happened to them?"

Katarina contemplated for a second, recalling those charred stumps in the middle of the vast dry desert between Noxus and Demacian. The Great War had claimed them and the poor souls that had lived within, as she and all the Noxians were told.

"If you think that that was the case, then you've just been fooled by Noxian propaganda," Garen said as though reading her mind, "the war had gotten some villages yes but many had survived. Those that did was destroyed by Noxus when they campaigned against Valoran with the weakened Demacian and the destroyed League. They were razed to the ground, all men and women and children were massacred. The unfortunate ones were captured and sent to labour camps and prisons."

This had not surprised Katarina, not one bit, she was fully aware and had learned not to trust anything or word within the city of Noxus. She had never belonged there and instead felt like an empty being drifting along the streets. No one belonged there for the city was now but merely a platform for Swain to act out upon, being a Noxian simply meant that you did not oppose the Marshal. He held no patriotic stance but only the pride for power and it had reflected within Noxus' walls where one moment a person could be conversing with a friend and the next facing the gallows while named an enemy of the states.

"Some were taken to Zaun to be experimented on, some taken to that damned Arena in Noxus to be some gladiator. Under those Noxian provinces, it's much better to be dead than alive, isn't it…? Better dead…" Garen said as though holding back tears from his eyes. Some dreadful memory seemed to have taken grasp of him, something of death and despair. It was the same feeling expressed when a loved one perishes.

It was a sad sight, seeing such a man reduced to this. Katarina felt almost pity but immediately forced herself back into her cold dark front. Then, Garen regained himself and straightened his body, bringing back some soldiery sense to him.

"We are not going to kill you, nor torture you, we simply have one request for you, one thing to ask of you," Garen said as he stood up from his chair, "I will bring you to the rest of us."

He went over to Katarina's side and called out to the door, signalling for Vayne to enter. She still had those dark crimson glasses on, shielding her eyes from the world with her trusted crossbow hung on her back. She wielded it and loaded a bolt before aiming it straight at Katarina's heart.

"He's gonna untie you now and if you try anything funny I will put one right in your beating heart. Don't think I'm not fast enough for you assassin, while you've been sleeping away on those grand beds of yours I've been training day and night," Vayne warned as Garen loosened the knot and removed the rope, freeing Katarina's reddened wrists.

She got up from her chair with Garen behind her as he retied her with an albeit much looser knot, allowing her wrists now to comfortably rotate about. Vayne led them out of the room and down many run down and ruined corridors. The ancient stone masonry had long served its purpose and now has been partially reclaimed by nature as roots and moss began reconquering the building. The once lustrous marble flooring was now buckled and shattered in many places whilst being stained with mud and dirt. The walls and décor highly suggests of a grand manor or sorts that had once housed a prestigious family

On their way, Katarina noticed shattered and boarded up windows in several abandoned rooms and saw the day's light leaking through them and hints of a vast green field outside, something that had not existed in months. She pondered their location, they could not be anywhere near Noxus or Demacia for the natural expanses of forestry had long been replaced by the deserts and desolation of war. Perhaps they were further north and closer to the Freljords where the landscape had been largely undisturbed but the kingdoms already conquered by the Marshal.

Soon, after several minutes of walking through the halls that had been laminated by recently installed lamps and bulbs, they arrived at a pair of large mahogany doors with a broken sign nailed above the doorway. The wood had been rotted away, making the phrase that had been inscribed on it incomprehensible. Katarina could make out the fainted letter 'L' at the front and that was it.

When they entered, Katarina was met by a series of familiar eyes all seated around in what seemed to be a barroom with a circular counter as its centrepiece manned by a massive tender with orange hair and a taste for alcohol. Surrounding the island were many tables, all completely filled by former Champions, now for the rebel cause along with many other rebels themselves. Everyone seemed to have been gathered about for a meeting in the packed bar, each table with at least one mug of ale and all adorned by an ashtray.

The glances and stares were hostile, unwelcoming and gave Katarina a crushing presence. She quickly counted the room and saw Ashe, Xin Zhao, Twisted Fate, Vi, Gragas, Fiora in the immediate area with Vayne and Garen beside her. Then, just as they entered, Katarina had realized that the room's otherwise dreadfully silent atmosphere had been lighten up by a soft, soothing serenade from the strings of a masterful player. From the corner of the bar Katarina noticed a still presence, gentle as the ocean's waves yet powerful as a storm, was the Maven of the Strings, playing silently but deeply on her etwahl. Her fingers plucked and stroked the strings smoothly and skilfully, giving the grace of music to everyone within earshot. Her heart swayed the many, soothing the rebels and Champions after each day of hard fighting.

Garen and Vayne led Katarina to the room's centre with eyes focused on her. It would not be long before someone had spoken.

"What is she doing here? Take that Noxian bitch outside to the court and chop her head off!" one of the rebels rowdily protested, followed by the sound of a mug slamming on the table.

"Yea! This here Noxian wretch deserves no less! Why is she in our base?!" another voice sounded. Soon, it was followed by a trail of upheavals from the crowd as their loud and rude discontent filled the room and their anger and hatred drowning out Sona's music. She had stopped playing with a distressed look upon her face still untouched by the war and gentle and white as heavenly snow. Continued threats and insults of her nationality, her actions, how she had no honor and sympathy as an assassin and even her family's name had been thrown at her without remorse. Katarina's eyes shied away from the crowd, their cruel words affecting even her yet some of them seemed true to her, bringing her a mix of shame and anger. But as an assassin whose life revelled in the dark and the absence of glory, she should've been prepared for this.

"Be quiet! Quiet!" Garen loudly ordered, "She had been captured by us and she is here for a reason, a good reason. Shut your mouths and wait for him."

_Him? The rebel leader perhaps, _Katarina wondered.

At the moment of 'him', the crowd went silent yet still brewing with discontent evident from the low murmurings and groans, even Sona now had stilled her hands, allowing for a tense silence to choke the room. The former Champions seemed only to mind her for a little while before returning to their own devices as several more mugs of ale were ordered from Gragas, which kept him busy.

The murmurs of her atrocities and affiliation of Noxus still sounded. Some of them vastly exaggerated while others fruitless fantasies and rumours spawned from hatred and resentment, but they remained. Garen led Katarina to a low stool in front of the bar, facing a large doorway covered by a ragged, brown curtain. As she sat, the lingering stench of alcohol filled her nose, disgusting her. She tried to breathe through her mouth but her tongue would taste the heavy whiskey and stale beer wafting through the air as she had no choice but to bear it.

After a few moments, the ceiling above creaked as burdened footsteps above caused dust to fall from the ancient walls. The steps drew closer and closer and soon the cracking of stairs could be heard as this heavy figure approached the bar. These mere steps were enough to completely silence any idle conversations and murmurs as though they demanded the attention of all within the room. A powerful authoritative presence saturated the atmosphere, causing even Katarina to dwindle inside as this mysterious figure came. All hands and mouths stayed still in anxious anticipation of important news and plans for the rebel cause.

The steps halted briefly before the curtains as though preparing to open a gate. Then, a firm hand pushed through and opened his way and entered a man that Katarina did not think was possible. She gasped under her breathe and stared in disbelief. It was Jarvan.

"How are you…?" Katarina began.

Jarvan had a rugged cloak wrapped upon him like a true mountain bandits but dignified. His princely aura had long been dissipated, transmuted into something else, something darker. His once clean shaven face was now studded by a light beard, the work of a cruel razor blade. His aged features made him look several years older even though it had been no longer than only a few months. His powerful and mighty form was still present, now rugged with the burdens he had to endure. He no longer looked a young, foolish prince but a scarred and battered veteran of war who has seen the raging lightning, the unforgiving storms and a thousand battles.

Despite his changed appearance, Jarvan had still commanded a dominating air, even more so than before. All the rebels and former Champions sat up straight and attentive in respect for their leader.

"Welcome to our home, Katarina Du Couteau," Jarvan said. When he uttered her full name, she felt a slight shudder shivering down her spine.

As he approached her with a seeming limp, he cracked a faint smile, not the one that is used to greet an old friend but the one that a cunning mastermind would have when his opponent is at his mercy. His expression felt sly, almost cocky yet determined and certain. Katarina could already feel her barrier being dismantled bit by bit just by his presence alone and his piercing gazes.

Then, he leaned over to her ears and whispered, "Please, make yourself comfortable for this time being, I shall explain everything soon enough." Then, he turned his attention to the bar. "Friends, allies and warriors of our cause, I'm sure that you must be wondering the fate of our captured prisoner here and that is exactly the purpose of this meeting."

"We are risking hella' lot to be gathered here partner, don't go no crazy now, this ain't the time," Twisted Fate said, tipping his hat.

"We have an enemy before us, there are only few options available to us, certainly we had no need for such a meeting to solve such a trivial matter," Ashe said, cleaning her icy bow with a cloth.

"Death is the only path available to her, after we get valuable information, then we can finally get our revenge on what her people did to ours. This way maybe she can at least die with what little honor she still has," Fiora suggested with Xin Zhao silently nodding in agreement. The entire room began once again stirring with the notion of her death. Only Sona and Garen seemed to disagree as they desperately tried to convey their message.

"Surely we do not need to-" Garen began but his voice was easily drown out by the crowd, Sona herself was helpless, not even able to create a squeak and could only protest by shaking her head and a saddened expression.

Then, Jarvan slammed a table, silencing the entire bar. "Enough! I have not even spoken my mind yet and you are already behaving like frenzied rats, what different then would we be to the Noxians?"

After several groans and mutterings, Jarvan held command of all attention again.

"As I was saying, these are desperate times and calls for desperate measures. We cannot turn away an opportunity such as this when it presents itself it us, we can no longer be naïve like we were in the past, we must take decisive action and worry the consequences later. And, to our fortune comes a prized person, Katarina is now under our roof, our hospitality, and our mercy," Jarvan began with a roughened voice. His words were much different than before, they were no longer the euphemism filled platitudes back in the days of Demacia. They were opportunistic, realistic, eerily like Swain's.

"Then, what are your plans?" Vayne asked.

"Turn an enemy into an ally," Jarvan said, then paused for those words to sink in and was met with gasps, shaking heads and disagreement.

"That is absurd! Knowing her status she could be spying for the Noxians, or here to assassinate one of us, or worse, we cannot take such risks," Ashe protested as she shot up from her seat.

"And even if we do accept, do you think she will agree? She will remain a Noxian and our enemy, that is all," Fiora said, joining into the upheaval.

"Then we shall make her no longer an enemy. Like I had said, we need all we can salvage, she has intricate knowledge on the Noxian front and she will make a valuable ally," Jarvan reasoned, "there is nothing that cannot be changed."

Katarina tried to protest but found no words before this unrecognizable man. She was being used like a bargaining chip, she had no say, she didn't even exist in their eyes at this moment, and only the absurdity of Jarvan's plan were they concerned with.

"I do not agree on such a risk, valuable or not, she cannot be trusted," Ashe said her mind before returning to silence and was conformed by with most of the former Champions.

"I am well aware of the risks, and that is why we will use our leverage in this situation to ensure our success," Jarvan then turned to Katarina, "and you should realize the folly of your circumstances and that you do not have much of a choice, but I will give you two."

Katarina scoffed, trying to appear indifferent, "Then I choose death."

Jarvan grinned, almost sinisterly, "Oh no, we will not offer that to you, in fact it shall be the exact opposite. Both choices will guarantee your life."

Jarvan then pulled a table between them and sat across her. Then, he revealed yet another change that had marked him; his left arm was no more. Instead, it had been replaced by an artificial limb constructed of silver metallic alloy that had been casted and shaped nearly perfectly to fit him, a result of advanced Piltoveran techmaturgy. However, it too had looked worn and rugged along with the rest of him, a result of the lack of maintenance.

He arched his arms on the table and leaned forth, bringing his full presence onto Katarina as everyone around listened on.

"One obvious choice is that you join our cause without resistance and attempts to sabotage us. The second, less forgiving choice is that we shall let you free," Jarvan said with a stern look.

Katarina knew that she really had no choice to begin with, the second one was merely a jest, but her curiosity got to her.

"Set me free?" she said mockingly, "sounds too good to be true."

"Indeed, there are a full other world waiting for you if you choose to be free," Jarvan said and gestured for a mug of ale. When it arrived, he downed it in one go before returning his gaze at Katarina. "If you so choose, we shall let you go, but we will also spread word and rumors of your affiliation with us. Noxus will hear of this, Piltover will hear of this, Zaun will hear of this, there will not be a single corner left on Valoran that would not know you have joined the rebel cause. You will have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide but die alone, in solitude. That is your second choice."

Katarina groaned, her face twitching with anger, "You…"

The way Jarvan said those words, the way he had cornered her and made her a helpless rabbit and he the wolf was despicable to her eyes, his cunning and merciless reminding her of the Grand Marshal.

"Not only that, we are well aware of your father…" Jarvan began, almost in a teasing manner. Instantly enraged, Katarina shot up from her stool, her hands instinctively reaching for her non-existent daggers but were stopped by the ropes bounding her wrists along with Garen who seemed unwillingly pushing her back down.

"You fucking bastard! What do you know of him? Tell me! Tell me now or I will kill you and everyone here!" Katarina screamed while kicking about and trying futilely to lunge at Jarvan with the every intent of slitting his throat.

"It would not seem like you are in the position to negotiate. As I said, we know of your father's fate, he still lives though barely. He is under Swain's grasp, as is all of Noxus. You cannot save him, but we can, along with Valoran. This is a mutual benefit, you shall help us and we help you. If you are as wise and sharp as many believes, then I'm certain the choice is clear."

Katarina clenched her teeth, her breathe heavy and boiling with rage, only just managing to calm her mind and ease away all obstructions to clear thought. She tried but could find no other way, no matter how sharp her mind was. She was indeed a helpless animal trapped in a cage, completely naked and bare and at the mercy of her captors. Her father came to mind; the truth of Jarvan's word struck her like a needle to the heart. There was no other way.

"Then I can assume your silence means yes?" Jarvan asked.

Katarina's eyes snapped at him as though she was spitting at his name.

"You are no different than Swain," Katarina hissed.

Suddenly, Jarvan's expression turned grim mixed with anger as he leaned over the table and became breathing distance of her.

"That is where you are in the wrong, I'm very much different from him in every aspects. I've casted away my naïve shell and has embraced the cruelty of this world, I had learned that a foolish paradise where sacrifice is but a legend is impossible. I have only learned decisiveness and the heart to accept losses. But where I am different from him is that I have morals and a goal. I can see in my eyes what I desire, and that is a freed and glorious Valoran. I have the insight to know good from evil and order to chaos. Him? He is blind, only lusting madly for power. He has no morals, he has no goals, he only seeks to further himself by stepping over others. I am different, and mark my words for the day that he dies, you will know the difference."

Then, he regained his posture and voice and gestured for two armed rebels to come.

"Take her to her room, she is one of us, beginning this day and I would expect all of you to treat her as such, am I clear?" Jarvan asked, his eyes sweeping the room left to right. "Then, is there no discontent?"

Only silence came from the crowd, the silence of awe.

Katarina was untied and held up behind her back and was pushed towards another exit at the rear of the room.

"A last word, I will leave you unguarded for I have no reason to do so to a fellow comrade but should you try to escape or do anything else but what is told of you, then you know the consequences," Jarvan warned, his words etching into Katarina's mind, "With that, you are all dismissed, tread with care friends."

He was no longer Jarvan Lightshield IV but a different man, a leader of a rebellious faction and a man that has seen it all and has been worn and scarred by what seemed to be years and years of struggling. A lost arm, while simply a flesh wound was a great injury to any warrior, as was his pride as Prince when his city fell. Yet there was this stark determination and the willingness to witness sacrifices and yet somehow continue without even glancing back, that was the man that Katarina had just met.

Soon, they arrived at a part of the manor that she had not yet seen and was brought before a door and a room. The guards instructed her to stay quiet inside until further words before departing with accusing glares.

The room itself was decently preserved and may as well have been a room of an old, yet still liveable mansion. It was of comforting size, just about half as large as the barroom. It was also surprisingly well furbished with dusted furniture and mahogany drawers and a large bed in the centre. A few cobwebs here and there were present but other than that there were no rats, mold and the sign that she was indeed in an abandoned manor left to rot.

She had noticed a single fragile glass globe; much like a snow globe except it was empty save for a single maple leaf encased inside. It was gently resting on her bed as the only decoration in her room. She took it up and studied it with great curiosity. It was but a foolish little thing yet so innocent and charming. With a smile, she took the globe and placed it in a more dignified place, high upon her cabinet which was just within her reach. Then, she realized a waft floating into the room. The scent was nice, sweet and fresh of nature when a cool breeze rolled in through an open window.

She walked over and peered out and found herself to be in the middle of a vast green expansion with mountainous hills and rolling ranges as far as the eye could see. Sparrows, deer and even reptiles could be seen merrily about in the greenery that stretched for miles on. Thick woods and forests lined the distant horizon, untouched by civilization and all the while the bright afternoon sun above basked its glory upon this Garden of Eden. Katarina was astonished by this marvellous sight, even before the Great War in Noxus, there had never been such a wondrous display of nature.

She was not aware that such a heaven had still existed in Valoran. But then, in the furthest distant she could now make out, through the warm sunrays and the drifting clouds a pillar of faint smoke bellowing into the air, polluting the skies. Several more of these emerged as inferno raged below, consuming all in its path. So far away, yet so close was this paradise were to those flames and any moment could too this peace be easily devoured by those flames afar.

She shuddered at the thought of burning fields littered with charred carcasses before her as she gently closed the windows and returning her mind back into the room. Suddenly, a knock upon her door sounded.

"May I come in?" a muffled voice said behind. It was Garen's.

Without answering, Garen slowly opened the creaking doors and peered inside, spotting Katarina sitting upon her bed.

"I've brought this back to you," Garen said, holding up her leather belt with a row of wicked daggers on it and two sinister looking blades. He waited for a response from Katarina but did not find any and so he decided to just set it on a table.

"Well, I suppose we could still spar someday with your blades back, hmmm," Garen said, amusing himself with the thought before pardoning himself.

"You have become weak," Katarina managed to utter, surprising Garen.

He then looked up in the air as though remembering something dreadful as his face contorted with the agony and pain of the memory.

"I suppose I have," Garen softly sighed.

"Noxus will find this place eventually," Katarina said coldly.

"Then we will simply move as we always have. This place will burn as we settle into a new home, further north of here and even farther from Demacia."

With a nod, Garen left the room as silence became Katarina's only companion once again. With little to do, she decided to inspecting her blades later and instead fell onto her bed and for the first time in days allowed herself to relax. At this moment however, a whole world of thoughts bombarded her. Her father's safety, her fate, and the fate of Valoran and Noxus were amongst the many pressing question echoing in her mind. She felt tired and her eyes weary and decided to expel the thoughts from her head and rest. With one last glance at the glass globe in front of her upon that towering cabinet, she closed her eyes and dreamt away.


	6. Executioner's Sloth

Chapter 5

A thunderous roar of cheering from the Arena rumbled the city of Noxus. The fierce winds and heavy clouds above did not deter the open roofed coliseum in which two hundred thousand denizens could be seated. The massive circular arena stood thirty stories high and was constructed from fine concrete, marble and steel. It was the epitome of Noxian architecture with stolen Piltoveran technologies and forced labor. The round walls were filled with intricate designs and markings depicting the Grand Marshal's pride and triumph and were flourished with endless banners of black and gray. Inside it was no less impressive than its superficial appearance; a huge ring, layered by hundreds of thousands of seats surrounded a singular arena at the middle where the bloodshed and slaughter took place for the sake of Noxian entertainment. A complex maze of gears and clockwork lay below the arena grounds, allowing for a multitudinous array of traps and settings. Sometime, the arena could be flooded and became a small ocean, sometimes the arena could become adorned with tropical trees turning it into a deadly jungle filled with predatory animals for those unfortunate enough to end up inside. Not a single hour would the Arena be unlit as always there were lights and shows happening and blood spilled.

This enormous architectural masterpiece was the work of thousands of hours, countless of plans and the sole symbolism for Noxian wealth and power throughout Valoran. It towers over almost every other structure in Noxus and has become both an icon of strength and prosperity and an icon of death and fear. It was the embodiment of the Marshal's rule, and an example of what awaited those who dare oppose him. For miles this behemoth could be spotted with its very domes reaching into the skies. For many, the Arena was simply an over-exaggerated form of execution for those deemed an enemy of the state. Once inside those walls and under two hundred thousand eyes, your death was imminent and will only serve as sick twisted entertainment for those who cheers for blood.

"DRAVEN! DRAVEN! DRAVEN!" the thunderous voices of the crowd screamed in unison as another helpless prisoner was decapitated with one swift throw of an axe.

High above on a singular iron tower adorned with wicked spikes and fire with an equally terrifying chassis roamed like a wild beast stalking prey upon the sandy arena ground that was stained with spilled blood and entrails. On top were Noxian archers and the executioner Draven as they effortlessly picked off scurrying prisoners below who were frantically trying to hide but it was of no use. Scattered through the Arena were low hanging steel walls meant for cover but it was merely a ruse, a way to keep it entertaining. Draven's axes could curve over and split open a head if he so desired, but he enjoyed it slow.

"DRAVENNNNNNNN!" the crowd cheered like animals as a shower of black bouquets of roses rained onto the grounds as Draven opened his arms and basked in the glorious light that shone from intense floodlights surrounding the Arena.

"YEA YEA YEAH!" Draven shouted in response. He had a whirling axe in one hand and a half empty bottle of ale in another. Through a drunkenly manner, he raised the bottle to his face and emptied it before promptly throwing his axe almost blindly yet it still found its target as it curved through the air and embedded itself on the skull of a prisoner. When he realized his bottle had been finished, he tossed it over the tower and took out yet another.

The Arena was now littered with the mutilated corpses and blood and shattered bottles. Draven quickly chugged down his sixth now and announced to the crowd and he can no longer see properly before striking down yet another, much to the crowd's sadistic delight.

At the very front row of the seats was the Grand Box where all the Noxian officials and the Marshal himself sat upon luxurious thrones and tables lined with feasts. Swain watched the show underneath his mask, occasionally feeding his raven sitting on his left shoulder, Beatrice some of the bread and wine. Beside him were several other generals and high-ranking officers who accompanied Swain and would only clap and react as their leader did.

After another round of cheering following three more heads gone, Swain lightly clapped, mimicked by a few others. Then, from behind him LeBlanc appeared and approached his side.

"Lovely show isn't it?" Swain rasped without even turning his head to acknowledge her as his eyes were trained on the Arena.

"Very," LeBlanc responded indifferently.

"All this excitement keeps the city alive, no?"

LeBlanc remained silent, waiting for Swain to finish watching yet another round in the Arena.

"So, what is it that you have to tell me?" Swain asked.

"It would appear that Katarina Du Couteau has been captured by the rebels days ago, she is now in their hands," Leblanc replied.

Swain's grin was hidden underneath his mask as he fed Beatrice a piece of bread which it then devoured hungrily.

"A shame, to lose such a fine pawn," Swain said sarcastically.

"Then shall we send a rescue? The rebels can extract valuable information from her," LeBlanc said, slightly annoyed at Swain's nonchalant manner.

"Why? Do you fear the rebels? They can do nothing, whether or not they have Du Couteau in their hold. Our primary focus is Project Zealot, the rebels are a separate matter."

"The rebels can attack Demacian and threaten our project."

Swain chuckled, "Do not be foolish, darling, the rebels, even if they have the knowledge they do not however possess the manpower required. They are a restless fire in the forest, and we a great gust of wind shall stamp it out with impunity. Do not taint yourself with the thought of them, I have already taken care of those pathetic rebels, you will see soon enough."

Then, another thunderous applause sounded from the frenzied crowd as Draven wobbled about drunkenly yet still deadly precise with his axes.

"Look at the crowd, tell me what keeps them under," Swain rhetorically began, "Bread and circuses, that is my most powerful tool in commanding this empire."

LeBlanc remained silent.

"Breads and circuses," Swain repeated. "What do you think is the greatest loyalty? Fanaticism? Blind fervor? No, that is quite wrong. In fact, indifference is the greatest loyalty of all, ignorance, the desire to feed and consume without thinking is the highest form of loyalty. You give them bread to keep their stomachs full, you give them circuses to keep them entertained and all the while they will not question, not even once."

Swain pointed to the crowd, "That, is the purpose of this Arena. If they cannot think, then they cannot revolt. They are not even aware of the rebel's existence, they do not even have the concept of rebellion for they have no desire to, no power nor capability. Like pack animals, they only exist to feed and follow."

"Their indifference can as easily sway as the wind," LeBlanc said.

"True, true, and that is the irony of our situation. But what way is there to sway when the only way they know is my way? Indeed there are those rebels you speak of, but they lack the proper influence to affect a whole nation, let alone a single city or village even. Such dangers are but fruitless fantasies, dear."

"I pray that your overconfidence will not be your downfall."

"Nor should under-confidence, shall I say? It is all a calculated move, but sometimes it is wise not to overestimate your opponents. Now, please, go to Chief Warden Vladimir and inform him that the project should be entering its final phrase within the month," Swain ordered.

LeBlanc silently nodded before disappearing into the shadows as Swain's attention returned to the Arena. Up above that wicked tower Draven was now on the verge of collapse but not before hurling two massive axes across the grounds at a desperate man trying to run for the gates. When the two blades cut through him, it had complete bifurcated the man as his two halves fell onto the sands like butchered meat. Then, after basking in the glory one final time, Draven collapsed into a drunken sleep like a sloth.

* * *

The night was deep and filled with heavy silence, not even a single utterance could be heard. The soft glow of moonlight gently blanketed Valoran, marking the end of yet another day. That round orb, so bright yet mysterious, drifted high up above in the black sky with a tapestry dotted by countless cosmic stars behind it. The twilight shone upon the manor as not a single flicker of life shuddered from its windows, a precautionary detail against prying Noxian eyes. On occasion, the eerie whispering of a breeze followed by rustling leafs could be heard but that was it. All the animals had vanished from sight as though they were never even here, only trees and grass and the perpetual lunar light remained.

Within the manor, the feeling of the hot water felt divine against Katarina's body as it washed away all worries. The warm steam rising from the showering floor soothed her mind and allowed her to relax as she cleaned herself with a sweet smelling soap, like a rose. She allowed the water to fall onto her face and streaming down her long hair before washing her face. She rinsed the frothing bubbles and soap off of her silken head as it swirled down into the drain and vanished. As the warmth showered down on her back, she held down her head in contemplation with her wet hair dripping down her shoulders.

She needed a move, a path or something, anything. She was a prisoner and that she will not mistake, she refuses to believe that she is a rebel now as she desperately searched for a way out. Jarvan had her pinned against a wall with a spear to her throat. In this deep night, she could perhaps take up her blade and slit everyone's throat but then what? What would come next? She knows she is a Noxian, but also a rebel now, but not a rebel against Noxus but Swain. Katarina amused herself with that thought and pondered if it was just nonsense. Perhaps they did share similar goals but how could she turn her back on her home? That was the question which cursed her thoughts and tempted her to take up her daggers.

After several minutes, she turned the water off and dried herself with a towel before getting back into her daily assassin's garbs. She wondered curiously down the darkened halls with deliberately light footsteps without even the rotten floorboard creaking. She had remembered much of the inner design of the manor which has brought her to the bathroom and back to her own. The kitchen, the bar, the grand lobby, the living room and even the servant's quarters are now etched into a mental map in her head as she maneuvered about the complex building without hindrance. There was however, one last place she had not been to; the storage area.

She made her way close to an unexplored door which without a doubt would lead her to the storage. All the way, she had ensured that she made not a single noise as she sneaked through, undetected like a shadow in the twilight. When she arrived, she gave a slight push to the door which opened in a surprisingly silent manner.

Inside was that resembling a junkyard, its walls covered all the way to the top with obsolete metal scraps. Several row of florescent light tubes above flickered constantly over the mountainous heaps of iron waste and junk bent into unrecognizable shapes. Oil leaks, water and other chemicals were spilled all over the concrete floor, leaving only one clean path which forks into the heaps. Katarina could not see the other side of the room, or the left or the right side as her vision was blocked by the room's contents.

She treaded carefully, following the deliberate path created through the oil sludge and knee-deep pools of unknown liquids. As she went deeper and deeper into the hills of metallic scraps, it had become denser and denser and soon she had to struggle to get through tight squeezes while having to be cautious not to accidentally pull down one of those heaps.

Up ahead, Katarina noticed a small clearing and the only area in the massive room that was being constantly lit by a functional light. There, in the center, a pile of scraps were put into a little shrine and bathed in the greenish light as though commemorating a fallen soldier. As she walked closer, she saw two robotic figures buried underneath, one of them was a massive golem who once shined a bright yellow and now stained by dirt and damage. The other was of a female shape, small and petite and had features strikingly similar to that of a human and shared the same damages and rust as the other one. Katarina recognized them in the midst of all the junk; Blitzcrank and Oriana. These two robots had a place in the graveyard of metals, at a glance they would've blended perfectly in the heaps of trash. No longer did they emanate the strange life that they once did, their two eye sockets were dark and lightless.

Katarina kneeled in front of them and dug into the heap. Soon, she found that they had their hands joined together like a loving couple laying in their deathbed, sharing their final moments. The shapes of their metallic finger joints did not easily match but Oriana had her hands locked tightly around Blitzcrank's like an inseparable bond. Upon Blitzcrank's wide chest, an opening was slashed across from left to right, revealing the intricate wirings inside and a hollow hole, no doubt damage from a blade. Katarina inspected the damage and found serrated markings along the twisted metal, a sign of cruel Noxian weaponry. Oriana seemed relatively untouched but she too no longer functioned and had become nothing but a shell, dead in a sense.

Katarina ran her finger along the golem's iron chest and found it still surprisingly smooth despite all the rust and dirt. It had no longer vibrated with energy as it did in the past and no longer warm from the steam, now it was but cold and unpleasant to the touch. Katarina stared at their locked hands, trying to recreate their final moments in her head. There were no expressions on their faces, only a blank slate yet it tells a thousand stories of which words cannot. She looked closer and found a small, rough but readable engraving at the base of Blitzcrank's neck. It read: _I have a soul, as do we all, as does she._

"We found them like that," a rough voice sounded behind Katarina which caused her to jump to her feet. She turned around and was met by Jarvan, still in his rugged cloak and wearing the harsh, shaven beard. His synthetic arm was not attached, revealing a closed stump of flesh with a few bolts screwed into what is left of it. On his other hand he held a mug of ale, the stench potent enough to be smelled by Katarina several feet away.

Katarina casted a hostile glare at him before turning back to the graveyard.

"The Noxians got them before we did, they had took them into the city and tore them apart. They tried escaping but it didn't work, they were recaptured, their memory cores were ripped out and their exoskeletons dumped into a junkyard. They died, if you would, together," Jarvan continued. He approached the buried robots and gazed at the damage Blitzcrank took. "I suppose that is one good thing about being a robot, is that you don't feel the pain of those last moments. The agony of the cold, steel blade cutting deep into your flesh and your life slips away, for them, they just close their eyes and it ends. A wound that does not hurt, many of us desire that."

Above, the lamp had now also had begun to flicker for several moments before returning to its constant luminance.

"I have nothing to say to you," Katarina coldly said.

"But I have a lot to say to you, Kat, so bear with me," Jarvan replied, taking a sip of his ale. Then, he sat down onto the hard ground cross-legged and set aside his mug. "Come, have a seat. I know it's not the most comfortable thing but it's better than standing, please."

For the next few moments, Katarina stood in silence as Jarvan waited. Seeing that he will not relent, she hesitantly lowered herself and rested on her knees, her stance still lightly taller than Jarvan's.

"I'm sorry Kat, for what happened today but you must understand that I'm in no better position than you are. I am desperate, as are we all," Jarvan continued while Katarina refused to meet his eyes and constantly held a face that speaks of anger and annoyance. "You feel as though you have been driven to a corner today, but that is what we all feel every day. Each day and night, Swain's men scurries through the city and slaughters countless innocent people and ransack their homes. If you were me, what would you do? What would you do if your city had fallen to your enemy's hands and your people suffering at the hands of those you hate? This is a desperation that you have not felt, yet.

Katarina clutched her fists but remained silent. Jarvan paused for a moment for another sip of the ale and for a moment held his words before taking out his synthetic arm. He began to reattach it to the stump.

"These wounds, they cut on the outside but not inside. Warriors lose limps all the time, Kat, but the true pain for me is losing my city and seeing my people suffer. All of us here has have changed, we have all received this wound that darkens us forever. You are fortunate enough not to have felt one yet and I do pray that you never will but soon you will and when you do, you will understand what I have become."

With a few final clicks of the bolts and screws, the false arm was in place and Jarvan made a few weak fists to ensure it is properly connected.

"Indeed, many of us have changed. You must wonder why Garen has become this pathetic shadow of his former self, no?" Jarvan asked, sensing Katarina's curiosity. She did not respond but she wanted to know.

"Lux is dead, she died before his own eyes," Jarvan said emotionlessly.

Katarina was surprised and subconsciously, she let out a faint gasp.

"When the Noxians marched to our city's gates, my father gave the order to defend our home but Demacia was already corrupted by Noxian spies in our ranks and our army already weakened from the war. They marched right in, without any resistance. Only a few Champions rose and gathered a few men for a valiant but futile defense. Lux was defending a school filled with children from the invaders. She was outnumbered, outflanked but she held on. She fought to save those children with her life. When Garen arrived, he found Lux on the ground barely breathing and surrounded by a mountain of charred Noxian corpses. The smell of burnt flesh, bright fires of chaos devouring homes and stores, the sound of flesh being torn and screams of agony were all there. Garen held her to his arms and she looked at him one last time and told him one thing that saved him, the one thing that has so far kept him from being a hollow shell, she told him to promise him to fight on for Demacia and for himself. He hasn't cried like that in years after as she died in her brother's arms."

Katarina stared blankly, her face laden with guilt and her fists loosened up and fell flat on her knees.

"But do you know what the saddest part about it is? It's that I wasn't even there to see it happen, all of this he had told me. He remembers day and night, each and every single little detail, the smell, the sound, the sight, even the taste of bland ashes he had told me. He is a broken man, but not hollow, he still has a heart and he can be unbroken and returned to his former self. As his Prince, and as a friend, that is what I need of him, of us all."

Jarvan finished the rest of the ale and saw Katarina's face in the dim light. Her eyes were weary and somewhat saddened by the news.

"My father too has died for the cause. He told us that he will die, and that his death will serve as a catalyst for what he had hoped for a Demacian revolt. Each of us has sacrificed something, and we will make sure that it will not be in vain. I know you, you too despise Swain, and you wish your home to be free and your father. All I ask of you is to become our ally, we have the same goals and ideals. Please, consider it, and together we can forge the world that should've been and remove the tyrant from his throne," Jarvan said, extending his real arm at her at the notion of a handshake.

"I can solve my own problems, I will free my father and my city," Katarina uttered.

"I know you can, but I am here to help you and you can help me."

"I can do just as well alone."

Jarvan chuckled, "we cannot always be alone, Kat. It will be a lesson you must learn, it is fine to depend on others at times, we all do. At these times, these desperate times are the time to rely on others."

Jarvan's hand was still extended but Katarina made a rule for herself that she would not accept.

"You are the one who has imprisoned me here, I cannot see you an ally," Katarina said.

"Then I ask you also not to see me as an enemy," Jarvan replied, lowering his offer, "no matter how you see me, I will still help and I will expect nothing in return."

"Why? Why do you do this? Why can you not just treat me like an enemy? Why must you act like this?" Katarina said, annoyed.

"Because there has got to be something in there Kat, I know you better than you think. You don't know what to do, then I can tell you one thing, fight with us and we can see Swain's death and a free Noxus and Demacia once again," Jarvan answered.

Katarina grunted but did not retort as she felt more and more trusting towards him despite her reluctance. She wanted to convince herself that this was all just a mere ruse to get into her for information for the rebels but his seeming sincerity was undeniable. She rose from her seat and turned her back to him and avoiding having to face this man any longer.

"I trust you Kat, despite what you may think. All I ask of you is one thing, to not betray this trust. I need you, we all need you. I see you as a friend and ally and I hope that soon you will too," Jarvan said.

Katarina's eye were trained on the gash on the steam golem's chest but they were not seeing anything, her thoughts were being bombarded with confusion and chaos.

"I will await your answer tomorrow, Kat. You should return to bed and get some rest soon, you will need it for what we are about to do," Jarvan said and left the room out to same path in, through the mountainous heaps of junk and waste.

When all was silent again, Katarina clutched her arm as though she was in pain. Her long crimson hair fell lifelessly downwards, covering her face and her scar. Her eyes were tired and desperate for a solution and answer.

The light above flickered continuously as though nearing the end of its lifespan, its luminosity had become dim and its glow lustreless in its struggle to remain lit. Just as it was about to die, it relit itself and brought forth clear light once again as it had now become the sole functioning lamp in the entire storage room, shining over Katarina's contemplation.


End file.
